New Territory
by KellyJade
Summary: Waking up in a dark room, you see two bodies slumped in the corner. And you hope to hell your heart's not the only one that's still beating.
1. Blood

So. First, I own nothing. Second, this is post season 3 – and I tried to make it as true to the show as humanly (heh) possible, and so I hope I do okay. I am not sure where I'm going with this at all, or if I'll continue or what. For now it's going to be a one shot but I'd love any sort of input on where I should go with it? Because honestly I don't have any ideas.

It's a liiittle bit Valkubus. As much as it is in the show (which is a decent amount I think). And if I write more, it's probably going to get more Valkubus. Anyway, here it is – review please, I need input on this one!

xxx

When Bo regains consciousness, the first thing she is aware of is the steady, repetitive drip of a warm liquid. It drops from her lip to the cold, hard cement beneath her. _Drip, drip, drip._ For the first time in her life, she thinks 'God, I hope I drool in my sleep.' She opens a bleary eye and focuses slowly down to the growing puddle beneath her chin.

Blood.

She breathes in – her breath is ragged. With a strangled choke, she realizes the likely suspect of the pool of red liquid. 'Collapsed lung,' she thinks morosely. 'Perfect.'

Trying not to move too much, she shifts her shoulders so that she can prop herself up on an elbow. Gritting her teeth against the pain in her chest, she looks around the room. She is in a dark, bare basement – windowless. There is one half burnt out lightbulb flickering ominously, hanging from the ceiling. There is one plain wooden chair, placed in the centre of the room, a few feet to the left of where Bo is lying. And then – as her eyes move to the corners of the room – she sees two motionless bodies, dumped on the cold concrete as unceremoniously as she had been. Bo feels her heart thump a bit faster. Two bodies, one a man and one woman. Limbs entwined, blonde hair askew. Gratefulness mixed with dread rises in Bo's chest. _Blonde hair_…

"Dyson…" her voice is weak, raspy. She knows it is him. She can see his broad back, recognizes his tattoo. His bare arms wrap around the woman he lies with. She is less sure about the woman's identity – but she has a guess. 'Focus,' she chides herself. She clears her throat, dislodging some of the blood there. "Dyson," she says again, stronger.

Still not enough. She shuts her eyes briefly. She is going to have to move. This is going to hurt.

Her body shrieks with pain as she lifts it. Her collapsed lung makes her breathing unsteady, unsure. Her muscles burn with agony as she moves them. She crawls across the floor, bruised kneecaps smarting with every move she makes. "Dyson," she repeats, urgency growing. "_Dyson._"

But it isn't Dyson who hears her – not him who wakes first. Bo sees the woman's arm, which was draped around Dyson's waist, move. She hears a low groan and all half formed questions about who the hell that is evaporate. Bo knows that groan. "Tamsin," she rasps.

"Fuck," comes the woman's voice. Yes… definitely Tamsin. What follows is a steady and frankly creative stream of curses, some which Bo has never heard before. She waits for it to subside. And then she sees the shadows move, and Tamsin is sitting up. Her green eyes are filled with anger. "What," the valkyrie begins, her voice shaking with that same anger, "the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

Below the pain, Bo feels a trickle of irritation. "To be perfectly honest, it's not my first _fucking_ choice." But on the last word, the strain of speaking becomes too much for her wounded lungs, and suddenly – she cannot breathe. All other feelings dissipate as she coughs, choking. Her throat constricts, and the warm blood fills her mouth.

Suddenly Tamsin is at her side. Bo's vision is faltering – black around the edges. She doesn't even have time to wonder how the valkyrie moves so quickly, how she is so unhurt. All she wants is to breathe. She needs to breathe.

"Bo!" Tamsin's voice is urgent. Blinking hard, Bo manages to focuses on the clear green eyes swimming in her blurring vision. She blinks once, and she knows soon her consciousness will fade. "Bo – feed!" comes the voice again.

Warm lips on hers. Bo is almost too far gone to understand what is happening. But then survival instincts kick in. And she feels her power rush desperately into the core of the sexual energy before her – she sucks it out, the energy feeling better than anything. The flow of life force moves through her body – she feels her heart pump desperately. And then she feels her lung swell – whole again.

Gasping, she pulls back from Tamsin. Oxygen – stale but life giving, flows through Bo's lungs. For a moment, all she can do is gasp for more air. She is still and shaking on the floor, hyperventilating. Then equilibrium resurfaces. She feels her body again, the bruises and sore muscles still unhealed, having been passed over in favour of the desperate attention her lung needed. Blinking hard, the room swims into focus again. Her breathing becoming steadier every second, she looks back at the woman kneeling by her side. "Thank you," she says.

Tamsin's eyes are intense, searching. There is blood on her lips, Bo's blood, smudged from their kiss. "Did you take enough?" she asks, brushing off Bo's gratefulness.

"I'll be fine," Bo replies. She edges her body into a sitting position. And her eyes swing back to the form of the man, lying in the corner of the dark room. Through all the commotion, he has not moved. "Dyson," she says shortly.

"Fuck," Tamsin curses under her breath. Tamsin helps Bo to her unsteady feet, and the two women move toward the unconscious man and kneel before him.

Bo touches Dyson's motionless arm. "He's so cold," she says, worry coating her voice.

"Well he is shirtless," Tamsin points out grimly, her gaze flickering over the body of her unconscious partner. Her hands nimbly run over his neck, searching for a pulse.

"Yeah," Bo concedes. Then she frowns. "Wait, why is he shirtless?"

Despite the dire circumstances, Tamsin's lips turn up slightly. "Why is he _ever_ shirtless?" As Bo shoots her a look, she continues. "We were captured together," she explains. "When I picked him up, I think he had just shifted back into humanoid form." And then she sighs, relieved. She sits back. "He seems to be fine, just really weak. He should wake up soon."

A weight lifts off Bo's chest. "Good," she sighs. Then she looks back at Tamsin, inquisitive nature taking over. "Wait, so you got picked up together – how? And how are you so energetic when he's passed out cold?" She frowns and looks around at their surroundings again. "Also, where are we? I was at the Dal…"

"Whoa, hold up," Tamsin cuts her off, holding up a hand. "I can only answer so many questions at once, succubus." She turns to look into Bo's face.

For a long moment they just stare at each other, green eyes locking with brown. In Tamsin's sharp gaze, Bo can see that deepness that is always there – something she only realized recently is sheer experience. This valkyrie has seen things Bo can not even imagine. Respect for that wells up in her chest, as does a twinge of intimidation. How can Bo even begin to learn to fight as well as this seasoned warrior? Or cope as well with the world when she's only been in it a few decades?

Her insecurity crumbles quickly though as she sees something else in Tamsin's eyes. Or more accurately, _recognizes_ it. Because this something has been there, dormant, for months. It was just too hard to quantify before – and even harder to believe.

Love. Phantom words echo in Bo's ears as she remembers the moments – _so perfect… to me, you are. You're not like anyone I've ever met, in any of my many lifetimes…_ As much as sometimes she feels inferior to Tamsin, she knows now that there is an unbelievable respect and affection that the valkyrie holds for her. And although at this point Bo is still unsure of how deep Tamsin's love goes (and even more unsure about how she herself feels about it), she is absolutely sure that someone like Tamsin would not feel that way for just anyone. And that has got to mean something.

Strengthened by this, Bo breaks their silence. "So?" she asks, her voice quieter now.

Tamsin blinks, startled. "Right," she says. She lets out a long breath. "Your first question – yeah, we got here together. I was in my truck, I had just picked Dyson up. And then I saw – " her eyes flash, " – _him_."

From the emphasis Tamsin places on the word, Bo knows who 'him' is. "The man who hired you to look for me," she states flatly.

Green eyes flash again, and Tamsin opens her mouth to speak, but then hesitates, swallowing whatever she was about to say. Recovering quickly, she nods. "Yes," she confirms quickly, before Bo can prod further. "I saw him standing on the street. I tried to run him over with my truck…"

"You what!?"

"You're going to have to stop interrupting me, succubus," Tamsin says, and although her tone is calm, Bo hears veiled dangerousness there too. Obediently, she shuts up, and the valkyrie continues. "It didn't work," she says, and a dark scowl appears on her strong Nordic features. "The truck went off the cliff – and we were brought here."

A million questions occur to Bo all at once. Deciding to chance it, she asks one. "And here is…?"

Tamsin closes her eyes. And although it is half shadowed in the dark, Bo can see endless emotion written in her face. Trepidation, regret – and anger. The violent anger that was there when the jaded valkyrie first woke up in this place.

When she speaks, she spits the words like poison. "This," says Tamsin, her voice shaking with feeling. "Is Valhalla." Her eyes flash open, and Bo's heart pangs as she sees they are glistening and wet. They shine with unbridled fear. And… love. "This," Tamsin says again, that love written all over her face. "Is the last fucking place I wanted you to end up."

For a second, Bo is speechless. She wrestles to say something – anything. Her eyes dart down, and she sees Dyson lying there. Still cold, still unconscious. Something occurs to her. "If this is Valhalla," she says, and she is surprised to hear her voice is somewhat steady. "Is that why you're…"

"So strong?" A sardonic half smile rests on Tamsin's bloody lips.

Bo did not realize the full truth of it until now. But looking up at her blonde companion, she can see it – Tamsin isn't pale, gaunt and weak like she has been recently. Her green eyes, though still pained, are bright. Her cheeks have a hint of colour, and she exudes a rough, ruthless power that almost makes the air around her feel electric. Bo thinks back to the chi that she took earlier – Tamsin has always tasted _different_, but today it was even more pronounced. 'She's in her home territory now,' Bo thinks to herself, slightly awed.

Tamsin shakes her head, reading Bo's expression. "Don't look so impressed," she says, and her voice, though biting, almost sounds sad. "I don't think you realize how much trouble we're in."

Bo's brow furrows. "Well I know our situation isn't good, exactly," she admits. "But at least we've got you – you're obviously supercharged. And…" Briefly she wonders if it is inappropriate to assume, but she quickly dismisses the thought. "And if I can feed off of you, then we've got me. I'm not exactly helpless."

Apart from a raised eyebrow at the feeding comment, Tamsin remains relatively expressionless. "So naïve," she remarks, her tone weary.

Still frowning, Bo crosses her arms. "So you're giving up, then?"

With a frustrated, strangled sound, Tamsin stands, walking to the wall and leaning against it, slamming her palms against the cold stone. "You don't get it," she spits out. "This is not like anything you've ever done before, Bo. We're not fighting some fucking neighbourhood bully."

Cautiously, Bo stands too. Somehow, she knows hostility is not the way to get Tamsin on her side. "I know that," she says simply.

Tamsin turns around, leaning her back against the wall. She looks into Bo's eyes, her own green ones full of doubt. Full of fear. "So what – are you just a masochist, then?"

"No," replies Bo. She walks forward slowly, reducing the distance between her and the bristling valkyrie. With every step, she sees Tamsin's eyes flicker with confusion. "But what I am is something these bastards have never seen before. And even though you used to work for them…" She is one step away from Tamsin. She lowers her voice, and tries to convey every ounce of sincerity she can in the statement she truly believes. "I know that you've got passion they have no idea exists."

There is a beat, and the look on Tamsin's face changes from shock, to disbelief, and then … then to something incredibly fierce. The valkyrie lets out a short laugh – a sharp, clear sound. "You're crazy," she says simply. Then she takes a deep breath, and looks at Bo in that same searching way she always does. "But at least we're not going out without a fight."

Bo can't stop a slight smile from sliding onto her face. "Alright then," she says, cocking her head at the valkyrie. There is a moment again where she looks into the blonde's face, just trying to figure out what the hell is going on inside her head. 'She's a fucking mess,' Bo contemplates sadly, seeing all the conflict flickering just behind those bright green eyes. 'But I don't think I'd rather have anyone else at my side in this shitty ass situation.'

A low groan breaks the short silence, and both women jump, startled. Bo looks back quickly, and to her delight she sees the man on the ground moving gingerly. "Dyson!" she exclaims.

"About time, partner," adds in Tamsin, her voice nonchalant on the surface, but also obviously relieved.

Bo hurries to Dyson's side, Tamsin right on her heels. Bo kneels and pulls his jaw to face her. She peers into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

Tamsin rolls her eyes, and puts a hand on Bo's shoulder, pulling her back gently. "Let the man breathe, succubus."

"I'm okay," Dyson murmurs, his voice a low growl. He sits up unaided, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head, like an animal awakening from slumber. Blinking hard, he looks up at the two women hovering over him. "Bo? Tamsin? How did we… Where are we?"

Again, Tamsin rolls her eyes. "I do not feel like explaining this again." Her green eyes dart around the room, and land on the wooden chair placed under the sole light source. A sly look appears on her face. "Bo?"

The succubus furrows her brow in response. "What are you thinking?"

Without a word, the valkyrie casually strolls toward the centre of the room. Spinning around on one heel she glances briefly at her two companions, who are watching her from the corner. And then she lifts a long leg and brings it back down on the chair, effectively reducing the structure to pieces with a loud crash.

"Jesus, Tamsin!" Bo exclaims, jumping at the unexpected sound. "What _are_ you thinking?"

Tamsin shakes her head, as if it is obvious. "I am making us weapons," she states calmly, reaching down to grab a thick piece of the broken chair. "Would you mind explaining the situation to the wolf?" Her eyes are serious, and looking closely Bo can see an unbridled ferocity bubbling just below the surface. "Because I believe we've got some ass to kick."


	2. Too Easy

And, I'm back with an update – definitely surprised myself with this one! I'd like to thank you guys for reviewing – shoutout to nirky who pointed out Tamsin has green eyes (I fixed that in chapter one). So… review again! And believe in my power to update soon, again.

(I own nothing at all, etc etc)

xxx

"Quiet," hisses Tamsin, turning her head quickly around. Her hair is pulled back into a sleek bun, her eyes glinting dangerously. "That door crashing on the ground was loud enough, your damn chattering isn't going to improve our situation any." She offhandedly waves at Bo and Dyson, six feet behind her. They are in a short, slanted hallway. It is dark at the bottom – it leads down to the room they had been held captive in. At the top, there is what looks to be a longer corridor beginning around the corner to the right. That corner is where Tamsin stands.

Bo stares ahead at the blonde woman, trying to make her gaze as determined as she can. _Chattering_, indeed. "I was trying to fill Dyson in on what little I know about this place," she retorts in a voice just loud enough for Tamsin to hear her. "If you recall, you didn't give me much time before you went crashing through said door." She steals a quick glance behind her, at the hulking steel door that lies awkwardly positioned on the ground.

"Rookie mistake," comes Tamsin's voice again. Facing forwards, the valkyrie peers around the corner of the wall in front of her, out of Bo's view. Her voice is more muffled now that she is facing away. "A reinforced steel door doesn't do any good if the hinges are on the inside of the room."

Dyson makes a low, appreciative sound. "That was smart," he says, the baritone of his voice a gentle reverb for Bo, standing next to him. He winces slightly, though. "Although admittedly it would have been great if we could have caught it before it hit the floor."

Bo places a reassuring hand on his forearm. "Nothing we can do about it now – at least we're out." The wolf gives her a tight lipped smile, conceding the point. Returning the smile quickly, Bo moves forward and walks up the slightly slanted hall. With every small step she takes, she notices something. "It's getting brighter," she whispers when she comes almost level with Tamsin.

As Tamsin turns her head to face Bo again, she nods slightly. Her eyes glint with something powerful – something ancient and mighty. "This is Valhalla," she says, her voice quiet. "It's… a breathtaking place." As she speaks, a kind of intensity full of pride and respect grows in her voice. It is something Bo has never heard there… Well – aside from the times Tamsin has talked about how she feels for her.

Brushing that uncomfortable thought aside, Bo listens again to Tamsin's words. "The most worthy dead come to rest here," the valkyrie is saying – quiet, reverent. As she speaks, her jawline is particularly striking. Noble, even. "Valhalla is fit for those warriors," she continues. "Made for them. The halls are white, symbolizing their final peace." Then Tamsin shifts suddenly, perhaps realizing she has become a bit lost in her own words. She avoids Bo's gaze for a moment. She coughs, running a hand over her slicked back hair and looking at her feet. "Anyway, that's why it's brighter the higher we go."

Bo is struck silent for a moment, awed by the magnificence of what Tamsin has said. From the moment she found out where they were, she hadn't placed a second thought to wonder at its significance. 'I am in the final resting place of gods,' she thinks to herself.

His voice a low rumble, Dyson speaks up from behind them. Having briefly forgotten he was listening, Bo startles slightly and turns her head to face him. "It sounds magnificent," he praises, staring into Tamsin's eyes. The valkyrie nods slightly at him in acknowledgement. Dyson continues. "But it certainly doesn't describe where we woke up." He places a large, strong hand on the wall his bare shoulder leans up against. "These walls are stone… and black."

Tamsin nods. "That room we were kept in? It's one of the old dungeon rooms. We don't even use them any more, probably why there was almost nothing in it." She stops her explanation briefly to look over his shoulder, frowning at the torn down door. "Also probably explains why there were no guards."

Placated, Dyson nods. He leans down, busied with something. But Bo looks into the lines of Tamsin's face, and sees apprehension tangled in the layers of brazen confidence. "What is it?" Bo asks quietly. "You're worried about something."

Quickly, Tamsin shoots Bo a sideways glance. From the look in her eyes, it is immediately apparent that Bo is right – she's worried. When she speaks, her voice is low and quick, and she murmurs, so even Dyson probably can not make out her words. "Like I said – that room we were kept in probably hasn't been used for prisoners for centuries. It was easy to get out of there." Her green eyes pour into Bo's with a rough urgency. "Maybe too easy."

A jolt of unease pangs Bo's stomach as she keeps staring into Tamsin's eyes, seeing the truth there. She hardly hears Dyson walk up behind her, hardly feels him move past her and place a hand on Tamsin's shoulder. The two of them turn toward the corner of the short corridor, both glancing around the corner into the following hallway, a brighter one. But when Tamsin looks quickly back at Bo, the look on the valkyrie's face acknowledges everything that is going through her mind.

'They're toying with us,' her green eyes confirm. 'They know we will escape. And they will be ready for us.'

Bo feels it in the pit of her stomach – fear. But only for a second. She is in the halls of warriors… those so brave they were brought from battle to a place of the gods. Swallowing her dread, Bo steps determinedly up the few paces of the corridor to stand with the blonde man and woman. "What now?" she asks in a whisper, the question open ended, but almost unmistakably meant for Tamsin.

Tamsin knows it. She clears her throat, and nudges Dyson. "Oh," the wolf's voice rumbles, and he hands her two thick, sharpened sticks of wood – remnants of the chair from their cell. "I used the stone by the door to get them sharp." He holds nothing in his own hands – he is a wolf, he needs no weapon. He takes a deep breath in. "They will be deadly."

Bright green eyes flash over the makeshift spears. "Good," evaluates the valkyrie curtly. She glances at Bo, and wordlessly tosses her one of them. "Put it to good use, succubus," she remarks. Her voice is a very peculiar mix of aloofness and fervent worry. A fleeting look of deep feeling flashes over her face, too quickly to identify.

Bo nods slowly. It is her only response. She moves forward, pushing so her shoulders wedge in between those of Dyson and Tamsin. She can feel both of their heartbeats – Dyson's strong and steady at her back, and Tamsin's quickened and ready on her chest. And all three of them peer around the corner of the corridor, Bo for the first time.

There is a great marble arch down the hall, several yards from where they stand. It is tall, and stretches the limits of the ceiling – Bo estimates fifteen, twenty feet. Unlike the black walls of their cells, this arch is white – blinding white. Beyond the arch, the halls are white too. Faintly Bo can see statues of men and women, all intricately and beautifully carved, but all just as fierce. She swallows, a rough respect welling up in her throat. Even from this distance, she can tell – these statues were warriors.

Dyson is speaking. Abruptly, Bo wrenches herself from her reverie to listen. "I don't see guards," the wolf is saying, his voice even as always, but also strained. "Which in my experience means it's more than likely the guards see us."

Tamsin's eyes briefly meet Bo's before they swing back to Dyson's. "Don't worry about it," she says shortly, her voice just a little too steady. "We just need to get in. If I'm right about where we are, the halls will all converge in the centre of Valhalla." She takes a deep breath. "There is passage there to the mortal world."

Although it's frankly obvious, Bo somehow can't help but ask the question. "And you've travelled it safely before?"

Bo fully expects a sarcastic remark, but when Tamsin's eyes flicker towards hers, she just gives her a hard, clear look. "Many times," she says simply.

It's so hard not to think it – Bo cannot help herself. Her thoughts race… 'This is where she was going to take me.' Her eyes are still locked with the valkyrie's. 'This is where I would be held if she turned me in.' Briefly, Bo wonders if she's really gained anything at all by having Tamsin's loyalty – she's ended up in the same place anyway. But just as soon as that thought surfaces, it is quickly stamped out. 'I have her at my side,' Bo thinks fiercely. 'That's enough.'

Tamsin wrenches her gaze away first. She looks over Bo's shoulder to the wolf. "We need to split up."

Momentarily forgetting her ponderous thoughts, Bo sputters in protest before Dyson can reply. "What? No way! We are not going to Scooby-ourselves!" Blank stares from both blondes. "You've never…? Right, okay, probably not."

Largely ignoring Bo, Tamsin looks determinedly again at Dyson. "Listen," she starts, "There is a hallway that leads left once you get to the white arch. There, you'll find a guard station." She takes a deep breath. "It _should_ be unmanned. Like I said, this section of Valhalla is rarely used. But there should still be some form of weapon, or tool or…" she bites her lip, and raises her hand to grasp at the air, "_Something_. Something that could help."

The pressure of Dyson's chest on Bo's back releases as the wolf moves a step backward, flexing his shoulders and arms. Loosening up. "Which is more important – stealth or time?" he asks Tamsin, straight to the point.

Before Bo can try and protest again, Tamsin speaks over her. "Be quick," she says, her voice sharp. "We're on borrowed time as it is."

"Dyson!" Bo manages to exclaim, finally. But as soon as she says his name, she knows that she has absolutely nothing to back herself up. As much as it terrifies her, this is not her territory, and she doesn't know the rules. She swallows her worry, managing a weak smile. She claps him on one forearm. "Be safe."

He looks back at her, smiling briefly too. Then he glances quickly at Tamsin. "Five minutes. If I'm not back – "

" – We'll be right on your tail," the valkyrie completes. "Be quick, partner."

With only a low growl in response, Dyson takes off – around the corner, moving low and fast down the rapidly brightening corridor. Bo and Tamsin watch silently as he reaches the arch, and whips around quickly to the left. As soon as he's out of sight, Bo feels her heart clench. In this foreign place, Dyson is like a bit of home. Without him…

'Don't think like that,' she tells herself quickly. 'He'll be okay. He'll be back before you know it.'

But Bo's nervous thoughts barely have time to process before she feels strong hands on her shoulders – moving her, pushing her against the wall. For a terrifying split second, Bo is sure they've been caught – she tenses and prepares herself for attack, for pain. And then she focuses. "Tamsin," she says, breathless, her eyes locking on the face in front of her. "You fucking scared the shit out of me. What …?"

The blonde stands before her, hands holding her shoulders, pinning her to the wall. Her eyes are clear, focused. "You didn't take enough," she says, her voice an even growl.

Bo is completely lost. "What?"

Green eyes flash – stern and serious. "When you fed off of me, you took enough of my chi to heal your collapsed lung. But nothing else." Quickly, Tamsin glances down, and as her eyes move over Bo's body, she remembers the rest of her injuries – the bruises, the soreness.

Bo winces inwardly. Busted. But she holds the blonde's gaze all the same. "I don't see why that's relevant," she says stubbornly. "I can handle a few bruises. There's no need to weaken you based on them."

Unexpectedly, Tamsin laughs. And she shakes her head, a sardonic half smile on her face. "Bo," she says, her voice even. "I am a valkyrie. And we are in Valhalla." And Bo swears… _swears_ there is an electric current that runs briefly over Tamsin's skin, connecting with the bare skin of her own shoulder, leaving a tingling sensation there. The blonde speaks again, her voice now a low, powerful whisper. "I am the strongest I can be here. Even my inevitable expiry date is on hold." This last statement is spoken with a touch of bitterness, but the smile still remains on Tamsin's lips. "So take what you can from me," she says, a powerful finality in her tone. "Because we need you at your strongest."

Bo remembers what Tamsin tastes like. She remembers the power of her chi. And as soon as she hears the irrefutable logic in the act, she places one hand at the small of Tamsin's back, pulling them together. And she captures the valkyrie's lips in a sudden, voracious hunger.

Tamsin's lips work skillfully against her own – Bo forces her mouth open, and she tastes her own blood. She takes a deep pull on the blonde woman's chi – it floods into her body like a coursing river, flowing to all the places it is needed, healing, mending, energizing. Tamsin's fingers work in Bo's hair, and she moans against her lips. The chi floods every cell, every blood vessel. Bo pushes desperately against the blonde's body. She tastes so fucking brilliant. She tastes like… battle. She tastes like glory.

And then it is over. Tasmin pulls back, gasping, but still strong. For the briefest moment, Bo sees a splash of blue in those green eyes, and then it fades as the valkyrie recovers. "You don't know how weird that feels," the blonde woman says.

Bo snorts with unexpected laughter. "Just what a girl wants to hear."

Tamsin's eyes roam over Bo's body. "Are you healed?" she asks, serious again.

And though she cannot see herself, as Bo smiles she knows her eyes are glowing bright, bright blue. "Not only am I healed," she says, feeling the crackling, pure power of Tamsin's chi flow through her body. "I am _super charged_."

"Good to know," a rough voice growls.

Bo whips around to face the opening of the dark hallway, and feels Tamsin do the same beside her. Her heart pounds hard with relief when she sees who it is. "Dyson," she breathes. She gazes quickly over him, and her pounding heart sinks a little. The wolf is back – but empty handed. "You didn't find anything?"

Dyson's grim face answers for him. "Next to nothing," he says curtly. But then he reaches for his back pocket. "Except for this." He walks the few steps down the hall to hand a piece of paper to Tamsin. "Although I'll admit I have no idea what it is."

Bo moves closer to Tamsin, to look at the item in her hand. "It's … a poem?" she remarks, surprised, seeing simple words written in black ink on the old paper.

Tamsin shakes her head, the movement causing Bo to look up into her eyes. "No," says the valkyrie. "It's a spell."

Bo frowns. This is definitely out of her area of expertise. "And it means?"

A lock of blonde hair has pulled loose from Tamsin's bun, and it falls into her eyes. She raises one eyebrow. "I have no fucking clue."


	3. Einherjar

It's another chapter! I'm a maniac with writing when I should be doing other things.

Okay quick warning (!) – this chapter is definitely gory. Like… don't read it if you're squeamish. Or eating. (Oh god, definitely not if you're eating.)

It may be too much gross for some, but with the way I want to do this story… There's got to be death and there's got to be blood. So yes. I hope you like it, I think it's a pretty epic chapter! And as always, please review!

xxxxx

Bo stands at the arch. Its blinding white glow hurts her eyes, but she can't look away. Close up, it is ornate, beautiful – carved intricately with designs she can not recall ever seeing before. Spellbound, she whispers to Tamsin, standing at her elbow. "How old is this?"

The valkyrie is silent for a split second, and then speaks, her expression grim. "As old as time." The words echo strangely through Bo's memories, as she recalls them spoken by a kitsune… in regards to the man who had demanded Tamsin to deliver Bo.

At Bo's other side, she feels Dyson bristle with animal instinct. "It's not natural," he growls. His bare shoulders shake – his body aching to break free of its human form.

"Calm down, boy," Tamsin's cool, fluid voice remarks. Her green eyes gaze down the hallway beyond the arch. "We might be needing that feistiness of yours, soon."

Bo narrows her eyes, and looks again at her companion. Her mind races, thinking of the implications of the valkyrie's words. "Tamsin. When we pass through this arch… what's going to happen?"

Tamsin doesn't shake her stare – her eyes stay focused on the hallway before her, bright marble shining, breathtaking statues motionless and beautiful. "This arch used to serve as a form of security measure," she says after a beat, her voice careful. "Many ages ago. If a prisoner passed through it, the guard would be alerted – the intruder would be swarmed by Valhalla's finest, and killed on the spot. Droves of guards would keep coming until the prisoner was dead."

A cold shiver moves up Bo's spine. "But that was ages ago."

The blonde bites her lip unconsciously. "Yes," she says, that careful tone still prominent in her voice. "The arch is also only active when Valhalla is on alert." Her jaw works, agitation subtle but present. "If they know the prisoner has escaped."

"So we've got a shot," rumbles Dyson's voice, hopefully. But Bo's heart thumps painfully in her chest. And she looks to the ancient Fae at her side – Tamsin's posture is strong and confident, but it only takes Bo a second to see the truth in her eyes. _They know we are coming. And they will be ready._

The silence goes on for just a moment too long. Dyson is not a clueless man. He looks between the two women beside him, sees the half second glance they share. And he growls low in his throat, realizing the truth. _They know. And they will be ready._

"Well," the wolf says simply. "What are we waiting for?"

As one, the three of them step under the arch into the glistening white hall of marble.

It happens immediately. There is no sound, and no visible sign, but Bo can feel it. The air _changes._ It feels horrible, foreboding – there is a physical thickness that surrounds her, and she feels her hair stand on end. Dyson snarls beside her. There is an electricity that blankets the three of them. And however foreign it feels… it is also familiar.

It takes a second for it to sink in, but Bo gets there. Because she looks to her left, into the eyes of the Norse battle warrior standing next to her. And in Tamsin's eyes, Bo sees the same power that she feels on every inch of exposed skin. It is overwhelming, visceral and brutal. She feels it in the room every time the valkyrie sheds her outer form and casts doubt. She feels it in her core every time she takes the blonde's chi. And now… she knows what it is.

Death. Death flows through Tamsin's veins as sure as her blood. Death is in the air around them. And Death is calling. There are footsteps in the distance, a growing, sickening march of figures coming to rein doom on their shoulders.

Death is here.

The first blow hurts more than Bo can say. The man appears as if from no where – one second, it was just the three Fae standing alone in the pristine white hallway. The next moment, they are surrounded by a battalion of men – men come to kill them. And the heavy hilt of an axe rises in Bo's face. It strikes her cheek – smashing through her face like a steel rod through delicate china. Feeling her bones break, Bo can not even howl with pain – any movement will dislodge the structure of her face even more.

So she snarls. She gives a guttural, animal groan. And she strikes.

It is a dance. A deadly, bloody dance. Thrusting her wooden spear into the tender stomach of a man – letting his organs spill out, red blood staining her fingers as it is released from the man's body. He drops to the white stone floor, his life over.

Bo twirls, warm blood from her own face flowing down her neck as she strikes again – her spear is in the neck of another man. He chokes, a strangled sound of death as he too, hits the floor.

Skulls smash open under the hilt of her spear. She brings it down again and again, cleaving, tearing, biting. Men pile up at her feet, their ruined bodies spasming with death. She does not stop. Now is not the time to stop.

Bo stabs again to her left. Blood. So much blood. She feels her spear hit fragile bone, feels a man's ribs crack. She thrusts again. Another man's blood stains her spear. The wood is red, now. Wet with the remains of men.

She turns, and she sees them coming. More. A new fleet. They scream and yell, death in their eyes, death in their hearts. Her gaze flickers to her left – there is Tamsin, face blackened and skeletal. The valkyrie snarls, and Bo's heart quickens. She is more beautiful than Bo can comprehend. To the right – there is Dyson, his wolf's teeth red as he rips out the throat of a man. He is the embodiment of his kind – loyal and fierce. Blood pumps through Bo's veins with a brutal, deadly purpose. And she looks forward again, and the new group of men are closer.

She realizes her eyes are glowing blue. And she smiles.

She doesn't pinpoint it happening. There isn't a moment when she realizes. But once it begins, there is no stopping it. And Bo doesn't want to. Her eyes glow a brilliant, shining blue. An otherworldly wind is at her back, whipping her dark hair around her shoulders. And she smiles wider, blood running down her ruined face from the opened chasm of her broken cheek. She opens her mouth. She opens her soul.

The room is full of men – Dyson and Tamsin can not hold them. There are too many. But not for Bo. Because at her will, the life force of each and every single one of them is ripped from their bodies – they fall to the floor in heaps, gasping as death takes them suddenly and sharply. And their power floods towards Bo. And she claims it as her own.

Time both stands still and flies by. Bo feels her injuries mend, feels her bones mesh back together. Feels the flow of her own blood calm. Feels her energy replenish. A guttural laugh builds in her throat. It doesn't matter, nothing matters. Because she is the chooser of the slain.

Then it is over. It does not end like it begins – Bo knows the second she engulfs the last soldier's life force. She gasps. And the room is still.

One deep breath. Two. "Tamsin," she gasps then. She doesn't think about it. It's just the first word on her lips.

Immediately, there is a hand at the crook of her arm, blood stained fingers squeezing gently. "Bo," says the voice, still caked with the fierceness of battle, but gentle somehow. _Tamsin. _"I'm here."

Death runs through Bo's veins, electric and burning. "Those men," she says, her voice thick with it. "What were they?"

Tamsin's fingers squeeze Bo's arm again. "They were Einherjar – the ghosts of warriors." Her words are quick, clipped and fluid. The rhythm in them syncs with Bo's heart, the beating calming her, bringing her back to herself. "They were brought to Valhalla by valkyries. They endlessly train for the battle of all battles. In the meantime, they serve as the guard."

The world is coming back to itself. Bo blinks. She looks around. Tamsin stands at her side, holding her arm. Her blonde hair is down around her shoulders now, glowing in the same lustrous way as the marble surroundings. And like the surroundings, Tamsin's hair is stained with blood. The bright green of her eyes contrast the dark red on her face and clothes. Dyson stands just behind her, back in his human form. He is wearing the black garb of a fallen shoulder. His face is almost impassive, but Bo can see something else there. The kind of respect and awe that she knows has come of the feat she has just accomplished. They share a quick, unspoken look. They will talk later of this.

Bo looks back to Tamsin. "Will there be more?" she asks, her voice steadier with every second. "You said they'd keep coming until we were dead."

The valkyrie nods curtly. "They will. What you did… it just stemmed the flow for a while. We need to keep moving, or they'll find us again." Tamsin's eyes flicker over every contour of Bo's face. "You realize you're absolutely covered in blood, right?"

Startled by the words, Bo lifts the arm Tamsin is not holding on to, and touches her face where her cheek was broken. It is healed, but yes, still coated with thick red liquid. She removes her hand from her face and glances briefly at her fingers. She sees the mix of her own blood and the blood of the fallen Einherjar. Then she stares back into Tamsin's eyes. For once, the valkyrie's expression is unreadable.

With a teasing bite in her words, Bo speaks. "Should I clean myself up, Detective?" As soon as she hears her own voice, the seductive power in it shocks her slightly. She feels her eyes flash blue. Although she has calmed down, the chi of all the fallen guards pumps the power and might of death through her veins. And she is strong. She smiles, that power crackling below the surface of her skin.

Tamsin knows it. But the valkyrie is strong as well. And has been for many, many ages. She smiles too, and now that Bo knows what she is looking at, she can see Death in that smile. "No," Tamsin says slowly, her voice smooth. Her green eyes flash with power… and something else. "I like it. It makes you look like the warrior you are." With that, the valkyrie releases Bo's arm gently, and turns to look further down the hallway, past the sea of bloody dead men. "Come on," she says to both her companions. "We have to keep moving, or we're going to end up looking like these sorry bastards." Her blood stained hand gestures toward the marble floor, where the bodies pile up like a sickening game of dominoes.

There is nothing to do but follow her. Stepping over the pools of blood and the fresh corpses, Bo and Dyson walk after Tamsin down the hall. With the blonde now a few feet in front, Dyson speaks to Bo in a low rumbling voice. "What you did back there," he says. "That was the same thing as what happened at the Dawning, wasn't it?"

Bo frowns, glancing sideways at the wolf. "Yes," she replies. "I think so. How do you know that – you were unconscious. Or, at least until – "

" – You revived me," Dyson completes, and a grateful smile is on his face. "Which I can never thank you enough for. But that's another story." The look on his face changes. It is searching, questioning. "What you did – it was… different."

Bo almost laughs at the understatement. "Yes, it was." She furrows her brow, thinking. "It's been getting more frequent," she says after a moment. "This was the third time it's happened. And I felt… almost in control over it this time."

Dyson is quiet for a second. Their footsteps echo strangely in the large marble hallway. Ahead, Tamsin takes a sharp left turn, and they follow her silently. Then the wolf speaks again. "You're becoming more powerful than anyone could have imagined," he says simply.

It sounds like such a hyperbole. A year ago, a comment like that would make Bo uncomfortable, make her skin crawl with the reality of what her destiny had in store for her. But now the words don't sound so scary. She takes a deep breath. They feel almost… right. "Well," she says, the edge of her lips turned up in a slight smile. "If I'm going to be unimaginably powerful, I'd say this is the right place for it."

Dyson's quiet laugh rumbles in his throat. "You know, you may be right about that."


	4. Dís - Part One

Okay, Okay. So. First of all thank you so much for the feedback on the last chapter, it really spurred me on! Very encouraging. Thank you thank you.

Also – I have officially figured out some important bits of where I'm going with this. Woohoo! So that's good. I started off this chapter as an attempt to get some plotlines laid down. But then I was writing and writing… and long story short (heh) – I accidently wrote 2,000 words more than I meant to. Oops.

So I'm making a deal with you guys – here's the first half of what I wrote. Read it, review it, let me know how you like it. Because I'm stepping a little more into the feelings feelings feelings part of everything with this section and I know that's hard to do right. And sometime tomorrow or the next day, once I'm finished revising and making the second half of what I wrote super perfect, I will release that.

Whew – okay, the last bit. I may or may not be going on vacation soon. Like super soon, like Sunday soon. So… there's going to be a lapse in writing fo sho. But worry not, the next chapter will be a hopefully satisfying mid-season finale of sorts! And then I'll be back in three-ish weeks. I promise.

Okay. Now I think that's it. Here is the first section, then! Keep in mind – it is part one of two, so if it seems like not much is happening, that's why haha. Hope you like it!

xxxxx

For a long time, the only thing Bo hears is her own footsteps, and those of Dyson beside her, and Tamsin just ahead. There is no immediate need to talk, and that denotes silence – anything that would draw attention to them is unquestionably a bad idea. 'Although we did leave the corpses of a small army piled up behind us,' Bo thinks to herself. She then shakes her head, as if to physically erase the thought from her mind. 'Don't think about that. They had to die, if we're going to get out of here.'

If it had not been silent for so long, it is possible Bo might have missed the sound. But she doesn't – as they turn another corner, there it is. A cry of anguish… and deep, desperate pain – it is faint, but the sound of it chills Bo's bones. "Wait," she says in alarm, holding a hand to Dyson's chest. Ahead, Tamsin stops too, and turns slowly, with a knowing, intense expression. "Did you hear that?"

"Absolutely," says Dyson, the vibration of his voice rumbling on Bo's hand. His eyes briefly turn a canine yellow as he sniffs the air. "And I smell it. Fresh blood. Someone has been attacked. Nearby."

Bo grasps the lapel of his black robe. "Where?" she asks urgently. She knows it is not reasonable to go out of their way unnecessarily – but it almost physically sickens her to think of someone who could be innocent, bleeding to death in this godforsaken place. And… she just knows. Somehow, she knows this is someone who should not die.

"They're in that hallway down there." Looking up in surprise, Bo hears the answer come from Tamsin, not Dyson. The valkyrie is pointing to the other fork in the hall, the most recent one they did not take. "And it's not worth it – they're going to die." The blonde says the words simply, matter of fact. Silently, Bo looks into her face – her forehead is furrowed, as if she has a headache. 'She feels the death,' Bo realizes.

Dyson holds his partner in his arresting gaze, and takes a step forwards her. "Whoever it is – we may be able to help. And they need our help." His voice is reasonable, but strong.

Tamsin places a hand on her hip. "_We_ need our help," she counters insistently. "I'm not sure if you noticed where we are or what's after us, but we're not exactly in a comfy situation here."

A low growl comes from Dyson's throat. "So you just want to leave them to die."

The valkyrie's eyes narrow. "You know, that was my exact plan, did you figure that out all by yourself, or…?"

"Enough," says Bo. She can hear the authority in her own voice – quiet but strong. Both blondes turn to look at her instantly, their squabble extinguished. Bo turns her gaze to the valkyrie, whose expression still exudes an argumentative insistence. As soon as their eyes meet, though, Bo sees it weaken just a little. "Tamsin," she murmurs. Somehow, she knows that is all she has to say.

There is only a short moment of silence – Bo tries to convey her suddenly crucial need to save the anonymous dying soul in nothing but her gaze. And with every second they stare at each other, Bo can see the fight in the strong lines of valkyrie's face soften a bit more. The deep green of Tamsin's eyes is so familiar to her now that she can almost see the thoughts flash across the woman's sharp mind. Watching those eyes now, there is a building recognition of how important this is to Bo. And then the blonde sighs heavily, her tense shoulders relaxing. "You people and your bleeding hearts," she mumbles.

Dyson's eyes very quickly move from Bo to Tamsin. His gaze flashes between their faces, taking in every aspect of what just happened. 'Uh oh,' Bo thinks, reading the growing comprehension in the wolf's face.

"This person," Bo says quickly, looking back to the valkyrie. "Where are they?"

There is no more argument. Wordlessly, Tamsin beckons to her companions, and begins walking down the hallway opposite. As they turn to follow, Bo doesn't quite avoid Dyson's eyes quick enough. When their gaze meets, the message is blatant in the wolf's face.

_You know she's in love with you, right?_

And Bo does know. Unequivocally she knows. She stares into Dyson's eyes for only a second before she has to look away, swallowing the emotion that has welled up in her throat. In the beginning, it was easy to deny. It was easy to think that the feelings Tamsin expressed towards her were just a longing to fit in, just a desire to be freed from the duty that she was enslaved with.

They weren't. They aren't. That fact becomes more incredibly obvious with everything Tamsin does, with every hidden emotion buried in those age old green eyes that Bo is starting to be able to see. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck,' Bo thinks fervently. Eventually, she will have to face the true significance of the valkyrie's feelings. But she can't now – she knows it is not the time.

It is all so endlessly confusing. Bo has no idea if Tamsin's feelings are something she can return. She watches the blonde walk before her and takes in every fluid movement, every flash of green eyes, every piece of soft, exposed skin. Bo frowns, frustrated, unable to evaluate her own feelings. It's just… there is something about Tamsin that she cannot put her finger on. Some mystical presence that goes past the simple knowledge that she is a valkyrie. And that presence, good or bad, is something Bo needs to figure out. She swallows uncomfortably. Preferably soon. Before these feelings blow up in both of their faces.

Ahead, Tamsin stops walking. She looks to her right, and as Bo and Dyson reach her, it becomes apparent she is staring at a door – a white door, which blends in almost perfectly with the walls. "In there," says the valkyrie. Her voice is just a little bit too quiet.

Quickly glancing over, Bo sees Tamsin's brow is furrowed uncomfortably again – the blatant sense of death coming from the room is affecting her. A twinge of guilt stabs in her stomach and she places a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "We won't be long," she says gently. "It just feels… wrong to leave this person alone and dying when we could help."

All physical signs of discomfort almost immediately disappear from Tamsin's face. "I can handle it," she says, and her voice does not betray any weakness. Green eyes stare encouragingly into Bo's. "Go on – the quicker we're done with this, the better."

Bo fights the urge to continue to hold onto the valkyrie's shoulder, and she drops her hand. Exchanging a quick glance with Dyson, she places a hand on the knob of the door and turns.

The room is blindingly white. It shouldn't come as a surprise but Bo blinks twice, the brightness throwing off her vision as her eyes search the area, wary of an attack. The room is small, but lived in. There is a bed in one corner, and a basin of water in another. She feels Dyson appear at her shoulder, his body tense. "There," rumbles his voice.

Looking in the direction of his outstretched hand, Bo sees he is right. There is a crumpled figure lying face down in the far right hand corner of the room. The figure is female, with a head of blonde hair, the same colour as Tamsin's, fanned out all around her. Her limbs are haphazardly draped across the floor, at odd angles with each other. She wears a white robe.

The white of the robe is stained shockingly around her middle by the pool of blood she lies in.

Bo runs to the woman's side. "Shit, shit, shit," she murmurs under her breath, kneeling, her kneecaps striking stone, her shins soaking in the still warm blood. She flips the motionless body over. The woman looks to be around thirty or forty, but Bo doubts very much that is the case. Her eyes are closed, her mouth lolling open, a trickle of blood spilling out. Grasping desperately for the woman's throat, Bo feels a ragged, faint pulse. On her stomach there is a gigantic gash – probably from a knife, or a spear. It spans from her ribs across her belly, and it is so deep and gruesome Bo is amazed the woman is even still alive.

She doesn't waste any time. Lowering her head, she closes her eyes, concentrating on her core, on the pit of chi that sits in the very centre of her – it is full, thank god, brimming with the lives of the Einherjar. Bo concentrates, and breathes out with something other than her lungs – a flow of orange light moves from her mouth, snaking through the air, into the mouth of the unconscious woman.

Bo remains like that for a long time. There is a lot of damage to undo – she watches as slowly, the skin of the wound moves back together, scabbing over and eventually turning into a faded scar. It is more than the sheer amount of damage though. 'This woman is powerful,' realizes Bo. 'So powerful that the normal amount of energy is just not enough.'

But eventually it is done. Feeling that she has accomplished all she can, Bo leans back, disconnecting the flow of chi. She feels a large hand on her shoulder. "You did well," murmurs Dyson.

"I hope so," she replies. She leans forward again, peering into the face of the motionless woman. "Why isn't she waking up?"

"Maybe its better she isn't," comes another voice. Turning her head slightly, Bo sees Tamsin standing in the room's doorway, leaning on the frame. Her eyes focus sharply on Bo's. "She's alive – we can get out of here without more delay."

Bo is about to grudgingly concede Tamsin's point – it is a good one – but as she starts to get to her feet, the valkyrie's voice speaks up again. "Wait." Looking back to the doorway, Bo sees Tamsin's green eyes are wide with disbelief. She is now staring at the body on the floor – she pushes herself off the doorframe and quickly crosses the room. Now level with Bo and Dyson, she too drops to her knees next to the fallen woman. "This… this is a dís."

Bo raises an eyebrow. "A what?"

Tamsin's face twists, a strange expression in her eyes. "They're… like a predecessor. Of valkyries." She moves her hand slowly down close to the woman, hovering over her shoulder, her neck, her face. "I've never seen one alive." And then she lowers her hand, to touch the woman's cheek.

It happens the moment Tamsin's fingers brush the skin. It is electric – with a clear cry like a bell, the woman is awake.

Blue eyes flash open, and aggressive ferocity is the only thing that Bo can see in the woman's face. She bolts upright, and her teeth are bared. "Not now!" she hisses, her words carving like knives through the air. Her own blood stains her lips as her eyes lock violently with Tamsin's. "It is not my time yet!"

xxxxx

Part two coming soon!


	5. Dís - Part Two

It happens the moment Tamsin's fingers touch the woman's face. It is electric – with a clear cry like a bell, blue eyes flash open, a look of aggressive ferocity written in the woman's Nordic features. Her teeth are bared. "Not now!" she hisses, her own blood staining her lips. "It is not my time yet!"

Bo cannot help a startled cry – she immediately jerks closer to Tamsin, a leather clad arm unconsciously thrust in front of the valkyrie's chest. Tamsin's reaction is one of shock as well – her green eyes are wide, and although she doesn't cry out, Bo hears her breath catch sharply. "What the hell?" she yelps, pulling her hand back from the woman's cheek, as though she had been burned by hot coals.

"It is not my time!" the woman repeats shrilly, still staring defiantly into Tamsin's face. Bo cannot quite place the expression in those blue eyes, though – it is something like fear. But fear tinged with an intimate, powerful knowledge.

"Well it _is_ your time to calm the _fuck_ down," Tamsin counters, sneering. "In case you didn't notice, we just saved your life!" She starts to withdraw her still outstretched hand, but with a short start of surprise, encounters Bo's arm, which is still flexed protectively in front of her. With a quick sideways glance to the succubus she gently lowers it, her green eyes flashing a silent gratefulness.

In the few moments this takes, the woman before them takes several deep breaths, and seems to double take. Now her blue eyes widen, a look of deep surprise replacing the former fear. She still stares at Tamsin. "But you're a valkyrie!" And then, unexpectedly, she laughs – the sound like chimes ringing in the wind. An amused smile settles in on her face, contrasting strangely with the dried blood there. "Well, well, fate certainly has a sense of humour!"

Dyson's voice interjects sharply. "Fate?" he asks, still standing at Bo's shoulder with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

"She's a dís," Tamsin reiterates, staring at the woman before her. "A fae of fate." She cocks her head, her expression wary. "That's all I know, though. Like I said, I've never seen one alive."

"Well you were close to seeing one dead!" the dís remarks, her jovial tone sounding off with the morbid quality of her words. "A member of the Einherjar I was giving a reading for did not like what I had to tell him… hence my little encounter with his blade." She gives a strange sort of giggle. Bo notices that all this while, she has not looked away from Tamsin. She seems fascinated by the valkyrie – Bo shifts uncomfortably, wary of this mystical woman. She does not know what the nature of her interest with Tamsin is, but she is not sure if she likes it.

But then a new piece of information clicks in Bo's mind, and her eyes widen. She looks again at the dís, re evaluating. "You're a fae of fate," she repeats. "And you were doing a reading." She leans forward a bit. "So you can read the future?"

The dís cackles, finally wrenching her gaze away from Tamsin to have it settle on Bo. "My, aren't you clever," she remarks, blue eyes twinkling. "But you're a little bit off." Gingerly, she starts to move, testing her shaky limbs on all fours. Although Bo reaches out a hand to help, the dís manages to slowly stand unaided, her white robe still shockingly stained with the blood of her now healed wound. "Ahh," she sighs contentedly, as she looks down at Bo. "That succubus chi trick of yours certainly is powerful. I must thank you for healing me, girl."

"You're welcome," says Bo, at the same time Tamsin grumbles "About bloody time," under her breath. Shooting the valkyrie a silencing glare, Bo stands too, eye to eye with the dís. "What do you mean by 'a bit off'?" she prompts the ancient fae. "You don't read the future?"

Instead of answering, the dís smiles. And she turns around, walking to the opposite corner of the room. Next to the simple bed is a low white table Bo hadn't noticed before, with a black box placed in center of it. The dís wanders behind it and sits down. She places both of her hands on top of the box, seemingly unperturbed by the amount of blood that stains her forearms. "I do not read the future," she says simply. "I read what is predetermined to be." Her blue eyes are no longer sparkling with amusement. They are serious – refined and focused on the craft that is her calling. Then, her gaze moves from Bo very abruptly – to land on Dyson, standing at her shoulder still. And a faint smile appears on the dís's face. "Ahh, yes. Come and sit, wolf. I will read you."

In unison, Bo, Dyson and Tamsin all display almost identical eyebrow raises. "Uhm," says Dyson after a moment, looking at the expectant dís. "You want to read _me_?" His eyes flicker to Bo.

The dís's chiming laughter rings out again. "I see the succubus is usually the subject of interest!" she remarks, blue eyes glinting amusedly. "I suppose that is not too surprising. But you see, I cannot read one such as her."

At her words, Bo is puzzled. A frown replaces the shock on her face. "You can't read succubi?"

Shaking her head, the dís smiles. "It has nothing at all to do with succubi." Her long fingers tap a dotted rhythm on the black box before her. "Think of it like this," she says after another moment. "I have told you already I read what is predetermined to be. But you see, I can only do this for those whose identities are fully and deeply cemented." She points a finger at Dyson. "This man's identity is fully determined." Her eyes sparkle playfully. "His journey is not over, but he is who he is. You, however, my young succubus…" She cocks her head to one side, smiling gently. "You are not yet who you are supposed to be. And so, I cannot read you at this point in time."

Bo blinks, trying to straighten out all that she's heard. "So… my identity is not fully formed," she says slowly. Seeing the dís shake her head, Bo looks to Dyson. "Well – I guess its good we've got you, then," she says after a moment.

The wolf surveys her with a careful look. "It's important that I do this?" he asks, his tone less questioning and more confirming. Bo nods – for the same nagging reason she knew they had to save the dís in the first place, she knows that she needs to see these powers at work. Dyson stares at Bo for one more second. And takes the steps to the small white table, sitting down across from the ancient fae. "How does this work?" he asks, his baritone voice stiff.

Smiling, the dís opens the black box. From where Bo stands, she can see what is inside – and from the sudden tension Bo feels in Tamsin's body at her side, so can the valkyrie. "Well for fuck's sake," hisses the blonde under her breath.

Tarot cards.

If the dís notices the women's reactions, she does not let on. She calmly lifts the deck of cards out of the black box, and spreads them easily in a perfect semi circle around the box, facing Dyson. "Let's see where you are in your journey, wolf," she says. A smile spreads across her face as surely as the cards on the table. "Pick one."

Dyson only hesitates for a split second. Then he reaches one hand out and takes a single card. As the dís nods encouragingly, he flips it over. Bo peers over his shoulder to look at it. It shows a figure, upside down, dangling from a tree. She squints to see the writing underneath, but she needn't bother – Dyson reads it aloud. "The Hanged Man," he says.

In the same light, playful manner, the dís laughs. "Oh I see," she says. And then her smile changes – adding something to the playfulness, something secretive. 'She knows something we don't,' Bo realizes warily.

"What does it mean?" asks Dyson, his voice rough. Bo wonders if he can see the hidden quality in the dís's smile as well.

The mystic doesn't answer right away, instead opting to pluck the card from Dyson's fingers, and place it back in the deck. Then her blue eyes look back into his. "You've been on your journey for a long time, wolf," she begins musingly. "But you knew that. The Hanged Man represents a change in you." She leans in, and her smile is wider now than it has been yet. Her voice lowers. "You have struggled with something – you thought it was insurmountable… this was misguided. You made a great sacrifice. You let it go." And then her voice is nothing but a whisper, although the smile remains. "You think you are empty, but you are at peace."

Bo sees the muscles in the back of Dyson's neck tighten, and at the same time she can feel her own heart clench. _A great sacrifice…_ She remembers the pain Dyson went through at her own expense with the Norn. She runs the last few words of the reading through her mind again. _You are at peace…_ She doesn't know how valid the dís's reading is. But she finds herself fervently hoping at least that particular part is true. With all they have been through, her caring for Dyson is strong, and she truly wants him to find happiness.

Dyson is speaking again. "The next stage in my journey," he starts slowly. "What is it… can you tell me my next card?"

But the dís shakes her head. And in a show of finality, she places the deck back in the box and closes it with a soft _click_. "Not yet, wolf," she says calmly. "You are close…" and here her eyes flicker around the room so quickly Bo cannot tell where they were looking, "but you are not at that stage at this time."

Bo frowns. She appreciates the importance of what the dís has told Dyson, but it doesn't feel… complete. She gets the gut feeling that there is something else the dís could predict for them. As she feels Tamsin move at her shoulder, an idea occurs to her and she speaks up. "You can't read for me," she says, "But how about Tamsin? Is she fully formed?"

The dís is silent for a moment, and although her face is very close to impassive, that secretive smile still plays at the edges of her mouth. "You are indeed a gifted girl, succubus," she says finally. Her blue eyes slide over to look at Tamsin. "Yes, the valkyrie's identity is fully formed." And then her focus is now solely and intently on Tamsin – Bo can see the heat of her stare. "From the moment I regained consciousness I knew." The secretive glint in her eyes shines brightly through her expression. "But no, I cannot read you."

Tamsin speaks – there is no question she is the one the dís is fully focused on. "Why?"

The dís is silent for a moment. Her fingers tap again on the black box in front of her, keeping an absentminded rhythm. "Hmm, how can I explain," she ponders. Then she withdraws her hand, a look of illumination in her blue eyes. "Ah, let's put it like this. The wolf – ", here her eyes quickly flicker at Dyson, " – is a character in the tapestry of fate. He will travel on his journey, facing obstacles and changing based on them, whether for good or for bad." Then her gaze refocuses intensely on Tamsin. She smiles crookedly. "You are not a character in fate, valkyrie. You are part of the tapestry – an obstacle."

At this, Dyson turns from his seated position to look at Tamsin. They share a long look, appraising each other. Glancing at Tamsin as well, Bo sees a bewildered expression briefly flash across her face. It is quickly replaced by a scowl, though.

The valkyrie shifts her gaze from Dyson back to the dís, folding her arms across her chest. "So you're telling me I'm a plot point in the tapestry of fate?" As the dís raises an eyebrow in confirmation, Tamsin scoffs. "Okay, this has officially gotten weird. I've had enough of this fate bullshit." She brushes past Bo, headed for the door. "Come on, you two. We've got to get out of here and we're wasting our time."

Bo recognizes Tamsin's logic. She knows it is right. And she sees Dyson lift himself up, move himself away from the dís, closer to the door.

But Bo knows this isn't all that is supposed to happen. She still feels the pull inside of her – the pull to know more. And then it hits her. "Wait," she says, her voice breathy, bated. "Hold on."

Not many people would wait. Bo knows that. But both Dyson and Tamsin do. The blondes survey her, with identical gazes – intelligent and curious. And she speaks, quickly so as not to lose their focus. She takes two steps towards Tamsin, who has stopped in her tracks. She reaches out, a hand brushing close to the blonde's body, fingers brushing the skin of her left hip. And she slips two fingers into the pocket of the valkyrie's jeans, grasping the piece of paper she knows is there. She hears a sharp intake of breath – Tamsin's – but she doesn't look away from the dís's blue eyes. She thrusts the paper into the mystic's outstretched hands. "Read it."

Bo doesn't ask if the dís can read the paper. She knows she can.

And Bo is right. For a split second, the dís hesitates, looking over the words she must interpret, comprehending the meaning there. Her hesitation does not last – she looks into Bo's eyes mere seconds after. And she opens her mouth – her speech slow, melodic, official… and unnatural.

'_One will ride in on a black horse, the decider of all but yet to be decided_

_One will follow, always, doomed to be broken_

_One roams alone, soon to expire._

_Invoke these names to open the gate._'

It is a long silence. Bo, Dyson, Tamsin and the dís – none of them speak. They stand there, evaluating the situation… evaluating each other.

And as much as Bo knows her companions are patient, she knows there is a limit. It does not surprise her when she hears Tamsin's voice. "The paper was in the old guard's office," she says. "But I don't know what it means."

For a moment, Bo thinks the dís will shrug, smile, apologize. Tell them she doesn't know either. Tell them she wishes them luck. But that doesn't happen. "This spell," begins the dís, simply. "Will allow you to leave Valhalla. Through an extraordinary stroke of luck, you have with you two of the three individuals that will allow you to unlock the spell's potential."

Bo's mouth is dry. She doesn't want to ask. But she must. "And the third?"

Blue eyes meet hers. And she feels a shiver run down her spine as she hears the dís speak. "His name," says the woman, "is the Wanderer."


	6. Fork in the Road

I'm baaaack. And without further adieu, here is the newest chapter. It's the least I can do after a three week hiatus, after all. Enjoy, review!

xxx

With every step, the air gets colder. Bo has been trying to ignore this fact for the past half hour, but as she breathes out and sees her breath condense in front of her, she is taken aback enough to speak. "Tamsin," she whispers, and the blonde woman just ahead of her turns her head slightly back, listening. "It's getting colder."

Tamsin nods curtly, before turning her head back to face forward. The valkyrie is leading the group – they walk one after another, military style. Bo follows Tamsin closely, and Dyson follows Bo. They have been walking for hours now, in relative silence. All three have been mostly lost in thought since parting with the dís. "We're nearing the centre core," Tamsin explains, her voice quick and clipped. She is quiet, the usual bite in her tone noticeably reduced in favour of a determined seriousness. Bo can not see the green of her eyes but she can imagine them – focused, darting around in search of any potential threat. "It's Valhalla's heart, where the worthy soldiers rest. The cold is a tribute to their strength."

This makes sense to Bo, but there's something else. "It feels different than regular cold."

Now Tamsin turns her head fully, her pace slowing a bit as her eyes meet Bo's, her jaw strong and confident. Her expression betrays no emotion. "It's the cold of the dead," she says simply.

An unsettling yet invigorating feeling passes over Bo's blood stained skin as she stares into Tamsin's beautifully formed Nordic features. After a moment, she speaks again, changing the subject. There's something about Tamsin's eyes that is making her heart beat uncomfortably fast. "You said we're nearing the centre – does this mean we're close to the gate?"

At her shoulder, Dyson speaks up. "The gate… that's the way out, right?"

The valkyrie's gaze flickers to the wolf. "Yes, it's the way out." Her eyes move back to Bo. "But no, we're not actually near it yet. There's an outer circle to the centre of Valhalla, and then the inner, which holds the gate." As the trio near a fork in the hallway, Tamsin slows her pace to a stop, and turns to fully face her companions. She gestures to the right side passageway. "That way goes towards the inner circle," she says.

Listening carefully, Bo hears a guarded tone in the valkyrie's voice. "But?" she prompts, sensing there is more to this than Tamsin is saying.

From the piercing look that appears in the blonde woman's eyes, Bo guesses she is right. "But if we're taking the word of that hokey dís – and I'm not saying we should, I still think she was kind of full of shit – we may need to reconsider what route we take."

Bo feels Dyson shift his weight beside her. "And why is that? What's down the left passage?"

Although Dyson asks the question, Tamsin does not move her gaze from Bo. She chews on her lip for a second, as if she is trying to find the right words. "I don't know the exact place, because I've never been there… But I know that down that left passageway, the Wanderer has his strongest presence."

Bo feels her breath catch in her throat. Her eyes flicker toward the left passageway – it looks much the same as the right, blindingly white and empty, but taking Tamsin's words into account, she recognizes the passage _feels_ different. It feels like the same element of danger that was present when she was taken at the Dal. She looks back to Tamsin. "We need to go down there," she says, without hesitation.

The valkyrie sighs, as if she is expecting this answer. She crosses her arms. "I hope that you're not saying that just because the dís said we needed the Wanderer to get out. We don't know that's true."

"It's not just because of that," replies Bo. And as she thinks again about the Wanderer, she feels anger swelling deep in her chest. "This guy brought us here, Tamsin. He's responsible for all of this." She is very aware of the dried blood on her hands, of the amount of killing she has done here. Her hands ball into fists – she never wanted that. And as if that isn't enough, as she continues to look at Tamsin, she is overcome not only the physical injuries the valkyrie has sustained, but also the emotional. There is hurt buried in those green eyes that makes Bo's blood boil. "And he's responsible for forcing you to do things you never wanted to do."

The look in Tamsin's eyes changes. Bo can't even place what it is. "He's so strong," the valkyrie says after a moment. And Bo's breath catches in her throat as she recognizes the tone in the blonde woman's voice – fear. Fear not for her own life, but for Bo's.

Unable to help herself, Bo takes a step forward. "He's going to come after us anyway," she reminds the valkyrie gently. "He's going to come after _me_. We can't avoid it." Tamsin's eyes are still guarded, unsure. Bo places a hand on the woman's still folded arms. "We have to fight. Remember?"

A small smile appears on Tamsin's face. "Vaguely."

Dyson clears his throat. Bo winces inwardly, not wanting to turn and see the knowing, smug look on his face. But she is spared that – when the wolf speaks, his voice has a note of warning in it that immediately gets her attention, and her guard up. "Someone is coming," he growls.

He is right. Jerking her gaze away from Tamsin's face, Bo senses it. That physical thickness in the air, the electricity that runs over her skin and surrounds her with its dark power. Where her hand is resting on Tamsin's arm, she feels it even more – and she recognizes it much quicker this time. "Death," she hisses, staring into Tamsin's eyes once more.

The blonde's expression crackles with that same power that now fills the air. A hint of skeletal blackness flickers across her face. "The Einherjar have caught up with us," she says simply. And then she smiles, the look of it sending a shiver down Bo's spine. "Time to fight, succubus."

Once again, there is no warning. Standing there, Bo sees Tamsin's face blacken, and then she feels something solid collide with her ribs, breaking at least two of them with a sickening crack. She cries out with pain, and for a second, she is caught off guard, helpless.

But only for a second.

With a cry of anger and a fierce thirst for blood, Bo swings around, her fist in the air. It collides with the skull of a man, and she sees him fall to the ground, stunned. She smiles – she knows that a month ago, she would not have had the strength to knock a warrior out cold that easily. 'I am stronger than I have ever been,' she thinks to herself.

The man's sword lies on the cold ground, his fingers no longer grasping it. Ducking the weapon of another warrior, Bo reaches down and grabs it – she lost her wooden spear a while ago. As she stands up again, she lifts the sword with a burst of fierce strength – and she thrusts the cold metal through the jaw of another man. The sword bursts through his head, his blood and brains exploding through the air. Bo pulls her weapon out of the ruined skull, only to stab through the belly of another warrior, spilling his blood too.

It is a dance of death. Bo does not stop to breathe – she is breathing in the crackling electricity of battle. The air is full of the mist of blood and gore, the bodies around her piling up. She slashes, stabs, thrusts. She relishes in how her sword carves through the flesh of her enemies.

Every so often, she misses a step in her dance. A man's sword catches in the bone of her shoulder, she shrieks with the pain. Another time, the hilt of a sword swings into her hip, breaking it. She is steadily losing blood, so much blood. But her thirst for killing does not slow – her sword extinguishes life around her with an endless passion for death.

Dyson and Tamsin share her vigor and expertise. Around the three of them, bodies pile up – they are killing with an unbridled efficiency, their skill unmatched by any single member of the Einherjar. Maybe it is because of this that the truth of the matter escapes Bo for a period of time. But after a while, as she sustains yet another injury – a broken forearm from a warrior's spear – she realizes what is happening.

They are sorely, unbelievably outnumbered. And they will not win.

It is not like the last time – the Einherjar do not stop coming, and they do not slow their attack. Bo cannot pause for a breath, cannot take even a second to draw in her power to take their chi. She searches for an opening in the killing, but can't find one. The realization terrifies her. There are too many.

And then she looks over at Tamsin, and her heart stops.

There is a warrior behind the blonde, one Tamsin can't see. His sword is raised. It will cleave through her skull – it will kill her. Bo is too far away to stop it. She is helpless. She can do nothing. "Tamsin!" she screams.

For one horrible moment, Bo thinks that it is over. And as she watches the sword of the Einherjar start its deadly downward strike, she realizes that however complicated and confusing her feelings about Tamsin are, there is no doubt about it. There is love there. A lot of it. Her heart throbs with pain her broken body can't even begin to compete with. 'I can't lose her now,' her thoughts scream.

But in her frantic evaluation of ways to save Tamsin, Bo forgets there is another who can help. Dyson. Tamsin's trusted partner. Loyal and honourable. And suddenly he is there – his bare, muscled shoulder in between the warrior's sword and Tamsin's undefended back. The metal connects with the wolf with a sickening, horrible wet sound. Blood and moans fill the air, spraying the scene.

The blow is grave, serious. But not deadly. Not quite.

As Dyson hits the floor, Bo is already moving. Sword in the air, she slices through countless men on the way to her fallen companion. Her heart throbs with pain, anger and worry as she destroys the bodies of those in her way. "Dyson!" she screams, as she cuts through the last soldier.

Tamsin is kneeling at his side already, her blackened face projecting doubt to the soldiers around her, creating a small circle of room. As Bo joins her, she looks back at her fallen partner, and the death falls from her features as she stares at him. Pity fills her face. "You poor fool," she mutters. "You poor, poor fool."

It is there, as they kneel around Dyson's bloody form, surrounded by deadly warriors, that Bo knows something has to change. Time seems to stand still as she crouches there, her mind racing, trying to think of a solution – _any_ solution to save her companions, and herself. She looks to the fallen wolf on the ground, who sacrificed himself time and time again. For her. For Tamsin. Bo's heart pounds in unbelievable gratefulness for him. 'Tamsin is right though,' she thinks as she stares into his face, his breath coming hard, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. 'You are a fool.'

She moves her gaze from Dyson to Tamsin, and as she stares into the valkyrie's face she wonders how she ever mistook her own feelings for anything but love. She is afraid to look too deeply into those green eyes, for fear she might never look away. 'How do I save you?' she thinks, her mind racing still. 'How can I save you?'

When the answer finally comes, Bo is not surprised at all where she finds it – deep in Tamsin's eyes. Sparkling there in the heat of battle, is death. The same feeling of death that surrounds the three of them, that is closing in from the swords of the Einherjar, who are quickly recovering from the doubt Tamsin cast on them. There, in Tamsin's eyes, Bo sees the solution. She can't fight death alone. She must use death to fight death.

Although she can't remember how she decides to, Bo knows what she must do. Wordlessly and suddenly, she leans forward and twists a blood soaked hand into Tamsin's blonde hair, staining it red. She pulls their faces together, and their lips lock in an urgent, desperate kiss.

Injured, hungry and full of passion, Bo can't help but immediately extend her power into Tamsin's core. Electric blue life force burns Bo's throat as she sucks it ruthlessly from the blonde. She needs to taste death, needs to feed on the grim, sadistic sexuality of this exquisite woman. After a brief second of shock, the valkyrie responds just as urgently, her fingernails pushing into Bo's skin – hard. She tears deep rivets in Bo's untouched flesh, and deepens pre existing wounds, but the succubus can't bring herself to care. She tastes both her own and Tamsin's blood as their tongues and lips battle as fiercely as the women themselves do. If she wasn't so mindlessly aroused by Tamsin's taste, she would choke on it. It tastes like glory. It tastes like death.

The kiss feels like it lasts forever – that's how good it is. The energy flows through Bo's veins like molten iron – it is pain and pleasure, mixed. It is invigorating and devastating at the same time. It is just so… Tamsin. With a gasp, she pulls back from the kiss, and her eyes glow blue. A smile spreads across her face. And she stands.

It's not like the last time. When she opens her mouth and spreads her shoulders back, sucking the chi from every single member of the Einherjar present, the energy does not flow into her body – she doesn't need it. Tamsin's chi has healed her completely, the death in her veins pulsing with every beat of her heart, fueling her every breath. Instead, the energy Bo takes builds in a blue, shining orb at the centre of the room. The energy swirls there, waiting, ready. Bo is in control of it.

As the last Einherjar body hits the ground, his life force extinguished, the orb is full. It is powerful, responsive. Bo knows it is hers to command – her bright blue, glowing eyes tear themselves away from it for a second, and glance to the ground. There Dyson's body lies, chest heaving, life blood spilling over the white marble with shocking colour. It is all Bo needs to see.

Somehow she knows exactly how to do it. Drawing her eyes back to the swirling blue orb, she siphons off the energy she knows will heal her fallen companion. Wisps of chi peel off the orb, and as they move toward Dyson, they turn bright red – as they touch his lips, Bo watches as he responds, gasping, desperate for more. As she stands there, his wound begins to heal – she sees the skin of his shoulder knit together, sees his broken body begin to become whole again. She smiles. Life from death.

"Bo," says a voice. A voice Bo is beginning to think of as one of the most glorious sounds she's ever heard. She tears her gaze from Dyson to look into Tamsin's green eyes. They glint with passion, and pride. "Your sword," Tamsin continues. "Use the energy on it."

As strange of a request as it could seem, to Bo it instantly makes sense. She returns her eyes to the glowing orb, and at the same time lifts the blood stained sword her left hand is still gripping tightly.

It starts slowly, but as it continues, it gains reckless, excited speed. The blue glowing light of the orb forms into a spearhead, aimed at the cool deathly metal of the sword. And the energy flows into the steel – invigorating it, filling the weapon with all the power of the fallen warriors. Filling it with their experience, with their pride, with their anger and honour. The hallway is full of an otherworldly wind – Bo's hair whips around her shoulders as she watches her sword begin to change… the cool metal begins to morph, turning sapphire, growing slightly. Under her fingers, the plain hilt glows hot, the form of it changing, ornate designs rising up against her flesh.

Then it is over – all traces of the glowing orb of energy gone. The air is still once more, the bodies of the Einherjar motionless on the marble ground, some gruesomely torn apart, some just drained of all life force. Dyson lies on the ground too, covered in his own blood – but his flesh is whole, his heartbeat steady. He is unconscious, but alive. Bo smiles. Dyson seems to have a knack for turning death into a new part of life.

She can't keep her gaze on Dyson for long, though. Because Tamsin is there. The valkyrie stands, pushing herself to her feet. Bo stares into her face – bloodstained strands of blonde hair fall into her eyes as she takes a step forward. And another. Bo's breath catches in her throat as Tamsin's lips turn upward in a thin smile. Her hand runs over Bo's briefly, and then touches the hilt of the sword she still grasps. "This," the valkyrie whispers, a certain reverence in her quiet tone, "is no ordinary weapon, now."

It takes an incredible amount of will to tear her eyes away from Tamsin's breathtaking face, but Bo does. She looks down to the sword, and gasps.

It is beautiful. Lifting the heavy weapon to see it better, Bo takes in the magnificence of the sword. The blade is a translucent yet dazzling blue, shimmering brilliantly, its brightness somehow even more striking than the white walls of Valhalla. The hilt is a shining, perfect silver – carved so beautifully that Bo can hardly believe it used to look like such a plain sword. She looks up at Tamsin. "I have this for a reason, don't I?" she says. It is not really a question.

The valkyrie's smile grows – almost imperceptibly, but Bo notices. "We should wake Dyson soon," Tamsin says smoothly. And her green eyes flicker toward the fork in the hallway. The left fork. Bo's heart begins to pound. "I think it's time we pay the Wanderer a visit."


	7. The Truth

New chapter time! And fair warning – lots of feelings. Lots of valkubus. More than ever before. Will you like it? I hope so.

Let me know in the reviews!

xxx

Bo drags the blade of the sword along the black fabric of a soldier lying dead on the cold marble floor.

"What are you doing?" comes Tamsin's voice. The blonde stands at the succubus's shoulder, watching with her brow furrowed. "The blade is clean, you know."

Bo doesn't move her gaze from the sapphire metal of her sword. "I know," she replies. "I just – I just feel weirdly compelled to have it out." She frowns, evaluating the truth of what she's said. She lifts the blade from the corpse. "I feel… restless." Her fingers itch, longing for battle. And she looks up into Tamsin's green eyes. "Does this feeling have to do with the sword?"

The valkyrie stares at her for a moment, seriously. Her eyes dart to the blade, and then back to Bo's questioning face. "I've never seen a weapon created quite like you created this one," she starts slowly. She looks back to the sword. "But… yes," she continues. "If I had to guess, it's the power of the death. It does that. Probably has something to do with all the chi of the Einherjar you took."

Watching Tamsin shift her weight between her feet, Bo wonders about something. Before speaking, she slides the sword into the scabbard she found, attached to the hip of a dead soldier. As the blade slides in, Bo feels the itch subside. She relaxes a bit, and focuses on Tamsin again. "Is that how you feel in battle?" she asks. "That itch? To…" she stumbles over the word, and reconsiders it, "… fight?"

Tamsin's patented half smirk makes Bo's heart skip a beat. "The itch to _kill_, I think you mean," the valkyrie corrects, sensing what Bo was about to say. "Yeah," she continues nonchalantly, but her voice has a definite edge. "That's pretty much what it's like." At this, her gaze shifts away from Bo, towards the fork in the hallway. The brilliant white passageway, untouched by the mass of blood and black clad bodies that litter the corridor they stand in glows faintly in comparison. Standing like that, Tamsin's lithe form is almost backlighted from the strength of the distant glow, her shoulders held confidently and proudly. Her strong jawline looks both formidable and gentle somehow, accentuating the lines of her Nordic features perfectly. As Bo allows her gaze to move down, she feels her breathing become noticeably shallower. Tamsin shed her blue denim jacket hours ago, and is now only clad in a plain white t shirt, its original colour admittedly reduced due to the shockingly red bloodstains it is now covered with. Regardless – the valkyrie is breathtaking. Bo exhales slowly as she stares, awed. This woman is the epitome of a warrior. A deadly one. And on top of Bo's admiration, and despite that she has just fed, just looking at Tamsin awakens desire in her again. Idly, she wonders how she could have possibly failed to recognize her feelings before now – with the effects Tamsin has on her, it just seems ludicrous.

A low groan emits from below Bo's line of vision, and she jumps, startled. She looks down to see Dyson, still lying on the ground, shift a bit, slowly fighting his unconscious state. After a moment though it becomes clear he will not awake yet. Bo looks back to Tamsin, who now holds the succubus in her piercing gaze once more, effectively taking Bo's breath away again. "We'll wake wolf boy in a minute," the valkyrie says, her eyes quickly flashing to Dyson and then back. She shifts her body to face Bo, cocking her head and crossing her arms across her blood stained chest. "First I have a question for you."

If Bo weren't a breathtakingly powerful creature of seduction, she might have blushed from the heat of that stare. "And what's that?"

Tamsin's eyes are intense, searching. "That stunt with the orb of chi," she begins, slowly. "Am I right in thinking that's never happened before?"

Bo shrugs one shoulder. "Ah. No, well. I've chi sucked a whole room before, as you've seen – but I've never done the big ball of energy thing." She raises an eyebrow. "Why? Is that something you know a lot about?"

Tamsin is silent for a moment, still searching Bo's face, making it feel like she's being x-rayed. "I've never seen it done," she says, finally. "But I've heard about a fae that could draw his power into a form of pure energy and use it at his will."

Bo can't help raising her eyebrows. "Only one fae? It's that rare?"

The valkyrie gives a slow, deep nod, never taking her eyes off the succubus. As Bo thinks through the ramifications of everything that's been said, she feels her mouth go dry. She knows she is powerful… the sheer volume of her power is getting too extraordinary for delusions of still being 'normal' fae. But what Tamsin is talking about is something else altogether – implying there has only been one other like her in all of time. Apprehensive curiosity wells up in her stomach. "Who was this _other_? The fae you heard about?"

Tamsin is silent for a short moment. "Well, I think I know," she says finally. "But I'm not one hundred per cent sure about this." Then the corner of her mouth turns up in a mischievous smile. "I may have, ah, overheard this information from someone who wasn't exactly aware I was listening."

Despite everything, Bo can't help but smile too. The seriousness of the situation aside, Tamsin is just so… Tamsin. "Of course you did," she replies. "From who, may I ask?"

Then Tamsin shifts her weight a little, and Bo sees discomfort written in the lines of her face. "Another valkyrie," the blonde replies after a moment. And before she speaks next, she hesitates, as if steeling herself to say something. "She was… also in service to the Wanderer. She was talking about him." She takes a deep breath. "He is old – as old as time. And he is the only one I've heard of that could do anything like what you just did."

Bo's eyes widen as she tries to process the implications of this. And then it comes to her. "The Wanderer? He shares this power?" Her mind races as she looks into Tamsin's eyes and sees the reluctant confirmation there. And something else… guilt. "I don't understand," Bo continues, her voice barely a whisper. "Why would he and I…"

But then suddenly, she knows. Although she had no idea before, when it all falls into place Bo is blown away with the obviousness of it. Realization floods through her body in a wave, the shock of it making her extremities tingle. "The Wanderer…" she breathes. "He's my father."

The guilt in Tamsin's eyes is strong now, burning through the icy cold of her usual aloof demeanour. "I'm sorry it took so long to tell you," she whispers, and Bo's heart pounds harder as the truth is confirmed. "With everything that was happening I just couldn't find the right way to say it. But you have to know."

For a second, a flood of emotions well up in Bo's chest, and she can't speak. There is shock – her _father_… After all this time, now she knows who he is. There is pain – her father is someone almost undeniably evil. Someone who has enslaved Tamsin into trying to capture her. Especially now that Bo realizes how she feels about the valkyrie… that hurts.

But it also hurts that Tamsin didn't tell her sooner. "How long have you known?" she asks quietly.

Before the blonde speaks, Bo is unsure of how to feel – unsure of whether to feel grateful, betrayed, or whatever else. But somehow, all it takes is hearing the first syllable out of Tamsin's mouth. Her voice is quiet, candid. "I've known for too long," says the valkyrie. And in her tone, Bo can hear the regret – so strong her breath catches in her throat once more. Looking into Tamsin's eyes Bo sees a vast, conflicting sea of emotion. An endless fight of her sworn duty and her ever growing love… and on top of that, centuries of pain that Bo can almost not bear to look at.

And then it seems Bo's body acts almost on its own – like she cannot help herself. Her blood, already pounding hard through her veins, burns like fire and ice all at once as she moves forward, grasping Tamsin by her hips. There is a short, electric moment as she fixes the valkyrie in her gaze, looking her up and down, drinking in every inch of her body. Slowly, she moves her face closer to Tamsin's. She pauses for a split second, feeling the hot breath on her face, seeing green eyes flutter shut. And then she captures Tamsin's lips with her own.

It's not like any kiss they've shared before. With Tamsin, things have always been rough. Hunger has been at the root of their relationship – feeding always at the forefront of Bo's mind. The valkyrie's taste, her power, her abrupt sexuality – all of this has kept their kisses heated and desperate, all teeth and tongue, all blood and pounding hearts.

But this kiss is something else entirely. It is soft – gentle. As soon as their lips touch, Bo finds herself melting into Tamsin's body, pressing herself against the taller woman, a soft moan escaping her. When she runs her tongue along the blonde's lower lip, she doesn't bite – she enters Tamsin's mouth with no resistance, just wanting to savour her taste. Tamsin sucks gently on her tongue, and Bo feels her knees almost give out. She moans again with unbelievable _want._ With need.

She has no idea how much time has gone by – it feels like both a split second and like countless ages. Although still maddeningly gentle, their kiss is somehow more heated and passionate than it ever has been. Bo feels nimble fingers sliding down across her tensed stomach, moving below the fabric of her shirt to touch her heated skin. She feels every slight touch like a bolt of lightning, moving through her core with an intense eroticism that is slowly driving her crazy. Her tongue glides with Tamsin's, moving in sync. Their mouths are hot and wet, unrelenting. It is Tamsin's turn to moan, and Bo feels the valkyrie's fingers move lower still…

Bo wants this so excruciatingly badly. She wants to collapse with Tamsin on the marble floor, wants to lie on her back and feel this exquisite woman on top of her – _inside_ of her. She wants to taste, touch, and be touched. She wants to be completely vulnerable to Tamsin's body, to her fingers, to her tongue. She wants to lose all semblance of control. She wants it so, so bad.

But…

"Wait," she breathes, her voice jagged, unfocused. Every inch of her body screams in protest, but she drags her lips away from the blonde's. "Tamsin, wait."

Pulling back, the valkyrie opens her eyes. She moves her hand from Bo's waist – her heartbeat pounding against Bo's chest. Lust fills her green eyes. "This had better be damn good," she replies throatily, her voice low and rasping, thick with want.

It takes everything Bo has to not crash their lips together again at the sound of that voice. She takes a deep, steadying breath. "This can't happen now," she says finally, fighting to keep her voice steady. She allows herself to look into Tamsin's eyes again, trying to bring them both back to reality. "We're not in a good place. We're in a shit ton of danger, actually."

Watching closely, Bo can see a sober quality sink back into Tamsin's features. A low chuckle sounds from her throat as she shakes her head. "Shit, you're right. This is crazy," she says softly. She closes her eyes briefly. "Fuck."

Bo smiles bittersweetly. "If only," she remarks, unable to help herself. Hearing Tamsin let out a single, soft laugh, she moves back gently, slowly disentangling herself from the valkyrie's embrace. Now that they're no longer physically touching, it's a little easier to look into Tamsin's alluring eyes. A little. Bo tries hard to make her voice steady and serious. "It doesn't matter how we got here," she says, a half smile still playing on her lips. "And it doesn't matter that I didn't know my father until now. All that matters is that we're here, my father brought us here, and we need to get the fuck out." She pauses for a moment. "Possibly we need to kick his ass, first."

Tamsin laughs softly again, and her eyes are grateful. "I really am sorry for not telling you sooner," she says, and the sincerity in her voice is so strong Bo has no doubt of the truth of it.

"I know," replies Bo. "Really, I do." She breathes out slowly, and looks down again at Dyson's unconscious form on the ground to the left of them. "We should wake him," she says. "Or the Einherjar are going to send another fleet and catch us again."

Tamsin nods slowly. "Okay," she agrees, her tone low and steady. "But Bo – if we're going to go after your father… You have to know he's like _nothing_ you've ever seen." Her words are slow, emphatic, and her eyes flash with grave seriousness. "I know you want to end this battle with him, and get him off your back for good. Or maybe you're thinking of the dís, and you think we need him to get out of this place." As Bo opens her mouth to protest this, Tamsin holds up a finger, cutting her off. "No, let me finish. I don't care why we're going after him." Her voice is clear, honest. Her green eyes pour into Bo's with a look that is somehow incredibly vulnerable and undeniably strong, all at once. "If you want to catch the bastard, for whatever reason, I will follow you." There is a pause, and Bo's breath catches in her throat as she sees the raw emotion in Tamsin's face. "I will follow you no matter what. You just have to promise me…" Her lips pull upwards in a pained half smirk. "Be fucking _careful_, succubus."

Every inch of Bo's body aches to grab Tamsin and kiss her again. Instead she takes another steadying breath, and speaks. "I promise," she says softly. "And Tamsin?" Seeing the valkyrie nod slightly, Bo continues. "Whatever this is… between us." She smiles, seeing a twinge of leftover passion flash across Tamsin's face. "Once we get out of here, we'll talk about it. Okay?"

There's a moment where Tamsin's eyes are guarded – where Bo thinks that the valkyrie will brush off everything with an aloof 'whatever', and never speak of any of it again. But the moment doesn't last long. Whatever is happening between the two of them is stronger and more serious than anything Bo has ever felt before. And although she cannot speak fully for Tamsin, she has a strong suspicion the valkyrie feels the same way. Something Tamsin said before sparks in Bo's memory… _You're not like anyone I've ever met, in any of my many lifetimes_. Looking into the blonde's eyes now, Bo knows that whatever it is between them is not something Tamsin will just brush off.

Sure enough, after a short moment the valkyrie's tense look dissolves somewhat, and turns into a tentative smile. "If we make it through this… you got it. We'll talk."

They are no where close to being out of the woods yet, and Bo knows that. But she feels a wide smile spreading across her face just the same as she hears those words. And as she leans down to place a hand on Dyson's shoulder, shaking him awake, she feels that her spirits are buoyed, at least a little. _We'll talk._

'It's so much easier to fight a battle,' Bo thinks, 'When you've got something worth fighting for.'


	8. Identity

So I've been building up to this one for quite a while. And I'm super excited to shock you all, because I am pretty sure none of you are expecting what is about to be revealed.

Or maybe you've known it all along? Let me know in the reviews! And enjoy!

xxx

Bo holds the hilt of the sword unconsciously as she follows Tamsin down the hallway. Her palm rests lightly on the ornate designs, the cool metal somehow soothing her as well as making her restless for battle. She catches Dyson, who is walking alongside her, staring, one bushy eyebrow raised. "What?" she asks pointedly.

"It just figures," rumbles the wolf, eyes sparkling, a hint of amusement in his low baritone. "Your security blanket _would_ turn out to be a deadly weapon."

Scoffing, Bo takes her hand off the hilt. "Very funny," she retorts. And then she looks down at the sword strapped to her hip. "Although I guess you have a point," she murmurs. "It's… comforting to have it."

"Hmm," comments Dyson, obviously thinking about something. As Bo raises an eyebrow at him, he explains further. "When I was running with one of my old wolf packs, we were aligned with a herd of Minotaur for a while."

Bo frowns, confused. "Okaaay," she says slowly. "And what does this have to do with anything? Also aren't Minotaur half horse, or something?"

A small, indulgent smile appears on Dyson's face. "Always so impatient," he chides. "I'm getting to the point, if you would listen. And they're half bull."

Ignoring the shot about her patience, or lack thereof, the edges of Bo's lips pull upward a bit. "Half bull, and you had an alliance," she repeats, an amused note in her voice. She nudges Dyson lightly with an elbow. "Didn't you – you know… want to eat them?"

A soft snort of laughter comes from just ahead of them, where Tamsin is leading them on, and also clearly eavesdropping on their conversation. Bo allows herself a second to smile at the back of the valkyrie's head, and then looks back expectantly at Dyson, who is rolling his eyes. "We were not quite so barbaric," he says, with a sigh. "And even if we were, the alliance was important, and we weren't about to break it for a snack. Anyway – my point is about the weapons of the Minotaur."

Bo frowns slightly, interested now. "What about their weapons?"

Dyson stares ahead, his eyes distant. "Well, like the wolves, they mostly fought without them. Although they were slightly more humanoid, they shared our pride in our animal instincts. Often our shared battles were dominated by teeth, claw and horn." He pauses for a second as they arrive at another fork and Tamsin halts briefly before leading them down the right passage. As they begin walking again, he continues. "But the Minotaur herd had a very noticeable exception on weapons – it didn't happen to everyone, but every so often, a Minotaur ram would find his 'mate-sword.'"

There is a slight pause as Bo processes this information. "That's…" she struggles for the right word, "… weird."

Dyson laughs softly. "It's not exactly what it sounds like," he says. "A mate-sword would 'complete' a ram. For him, it would feel like an extension of his horns and his strength – the mate-sword held a very intimate, personal aspect." The wolf is silent for another moment, lost in memory. "I knew a ram, Asterion. He found his mate-sword a short while after I began fighting alongside him. When I asked him about it, he described it as being imbibed with the essence of everything he held dear – that is what made it part of him."

Bo is trying to follow, but is still a bit confused. "So… the sword was something he worshipped?"

The wolf shrugs one muscled shoulder. "Hm. Sort of. Think of it like this. So, Asterion was a tracker, always lost in the heavens, guiding us through the woods by using the stars. That was what he loved, his passion in life even more than war. When he got his sword, he told me when he held it, it gave him the feeling of flying across the night sky." Then Dyson shrugs, the far away quality leaving his eyes a bit. "It was honestly a strange aspiration for a Minotaur, but he was a damn good tracker. And he fought damn well with that sword."

Bo nods slowly, now feeling as though she understands. And she looks down again at the weapon strapped to her hip. She places a hand on the silver hilt, and the feeling of right-ness seems to envelop her again. As does that now familiar _itch_.

"So?" comes Dyson's voice again. Bo jerks her head up to face him, having been momentarily distracted. The wolf is looking at her expectantly. "Do you think I'm on to something? Do you feel any kind of specific energy when you hold that sword?"

Just ahead of them, Bo sees Tamsin look back, and as their eyes meet, she uneasily remembers her earlier discussion with the valkyrie about the sword. "Yes," Bo answers Dyson, still locking eyes with Tamsin. "I feel an urge to kill." She wraps her fingers tighter around the hilt. "An urge for Death."

There is silence for a moment. An unidentifiable look flashes over Tamsin's features before she turns her head away from Bo to face in front of her again. As Bo looks back to Dyson, his face is impassive. "I see," he says, his voice low.

Bo releases the hilt of her sword, and as the itch leaves her she lets out an exasperated sigh. "You can say I'm going crazy, Dyson," she says, looking into his face pleadingly. "I swear, I don't know what's going on with me. Maybe it's just this place…"

The wolf's brown eyes are warm. "Bo," he interrupts, and his tone is calm, soothing. "You're not going crazy. We talked about this." His strong hand grips her forearm. "You're a powerful fae. One of the most powerful." Dyson smiles. "And in our current situation… that's definitely a good thing."

As Bo gives Dyson a weak smile back, Tamsin stops suddenly, and Bo almost walks right into her. "Whoa, watch it, valkyrie," she scolds. But then she follows Tamsin's gaze into the hall before them. "Oh shit…" she breathes.

After seeing nothing but the blindingly white halls of Valhalla for a long time, Bo almost can't comprehend what greets them just ahead – darkness. Almost complete darkness. Contrasting harshly with the edges of white still visible in the corners of the hall, tendrils of inky black smoke curl up from a pool of jet black oily liquid on the floor. The darkness cuts through the white like a cancer, wisps of black twisting across the untouched floor, close to where the trio stand.

"'_Oh shit_'is right," grumbles Tamsin, her voice edgy. Still awed by the darkness, Bo jumps slightly as she feels the valkyrie touch her arm. "Look closer at the oily stuff," the blonde whispers. "I'm not an expert on secret lairs or anything, but doesn't that look like a portal to you?"

Drawing her eyes down to focus on the swirling pool of liquid on the ground, Bo immediately sees what Tamsin is talking about. Although at first the pool appeared to be resting on the ground, it now becomes clear that the centre of the oily liquid is actually _below_ the floor. "Shit," repeats Bo quietly.

Dyson is apparently thinking along the same lines. "So," he says, staring into the black abyss as well. "We're going in _there_, then."

Tamsin glances past Bo to meet Dyson's eyes. "You scared, wolf?" she asks, an eyebrow raised.

Dyson bares his teeth at his partner. "Not likely," he growls.

Tamsin doesn't move her gaze, and looking at the expression on her face sends a shiver down Bo's spine. "Well," replies the valkyrie, her voice even and deathly smooth, "You should be." She then looks at Bo, and her green eyes seem to soften slightly. "Are you ready?" she asks simply.

Steeling herself to say yes, Bo's right hand moves to the hilt of her sword, and while grasping it she takes comfort in the itch of death running over her skin. But then something unexpected occurs – looking into Tamsin's eyes, her heart thuds a bit faster with a sudden realization.

What did Dyson say? The mate-sword of the Minotaurs were '_imbibed with the essence of everything they held dear_.' Feeling the electric current of Death that runs from the sword, Bo realizes why it is so comforting and familiar. It is exactly the presence that lives in Tamsin's green eyes.

Bo becomes aware she has been silent for just a moment too long. "I'm ready," she says quickly, pushing her revelatory thoughts aside for now. She squeezes the hilt of her sword again, and the death itch strengthens her with its power. The urge to fight spurs her on, and she smiles at Tamsin. "Let's go."

At the women's shoulders, Dyson's growl of consent is a low hum that resonates between the three of them. "I will follow you," he says simply. Bo looks into his eyes and sees his words written there. Thinking about it, she realizes his statement is absolutely true. Astoundingly true.

Throughout the past three years of her life – through all her adventures, whether it be facing the Garuda, or facing the Dawning – Dyson has always been there. Following. Over and over, he has sacrificed himself for her, and those she cares about. Her mind thinks back to mere hours ago, when he jumped in between Tamsin and the deadly blade of the Einherjar, effectively saving the valkyrie's life. 'He knew there is something between Tamsin and I,' thinks Bo to herself. Her mouth is dry as she tries to comprehend how deep Dyson's loyalty really goes. 'He sacrificed himself for me _through_ her.'

Tamsin takes Bo's hand – Bo supposes there is little reason for subtlety now, as Dyson knows them both well enough to realize their connection, and they all may be about to die anyway. The three of them walk unflinchingly toward the darkness, each of their eyes focused on the oily black pool before them.

Still though, Bo's mind is racing. She feels Tamsin's hand in hers, feels Dyson's shoulder up against her own. And still… she knows that there is some crucially important knowledge she is missing.

And then, out of nowhere, her mind arrives at the four lines of the spell they found as soon as they began their journey in Valhalla.

_'One will ride in on a black horse, the decider of all but yet to be decided_

_One will follow, always, doomed to be broken_

_One roams alone, soon to expire._

_Invoke these names to open the gate.'_

The words of the spell, once so opaque, seem to ring a bit clearer now for some reason. And one more sentence sounds in Bo's ears overwhelming then – the words spoken by the dís just after she read the spell: _Through an extraordinary stroke of luck, you have with you two of the three individuals that will allow you to unlock the spell's potential._

Bo looks to her left, and then to her right. And her mouth drops open a little.

Dyson, his strong shoulders bare, his teeth gritted. A strong warrior. But as Bo thinks the words of the spell, they ring true – 'One will follow, always, doomed to be broken.' Undoubtedly, the line speaks of Dyson.

It is then that another voice echoes through Bo's ears. Tamsin's. The scene flashes before her eyes – Dyson lying bleeding on the ground, having sacrificed himself by jumping in front of the Einherjar's blade. 'You poor, poor fool,' Tamsin had said.

You _fool._

Like any teenager, Bo had stayed up late with her friends, giggling, pouring over things that she had no business trying to understand. Like a Ouiji board (she has paid for that mishap already) and Tarot cards. Her mouth now even drier, she thinks about one card in particular. The Fool. She wracks her brain, trying to remember its specifics. She thinks about how the Fool begins – an innocent soul who embarks on a journey full of pain and self discovery.

Again, the dís's words echo in her ears: _The wolf is a character in the tapestry of fate. He will travel on his journey, facing obstacles and changing based on them, whether for good or for bad._

Bo curses herself for not seeing it before. And reeling with her newfound knowledge of Dyson, she turns to look to her right, at the beautiful, proud creature holding her hand.

Tamsin is not looking at her – the blonde stares ahead, her steely green gaze focused on the oily black pool just ahead of them. And Bo's heart pounds as she thinks about the first line of the spell: 'One will ride in on a black horse, the decider of all but yet to be decided.'

There is only one Tarot card she knows of that rides on a black horse. And Bo's heart is in her throat as all the obvious clues she has been noticing lately build up into one, undeniable realization.

The decider of all. Death.

As stupid as she feels for not putting together Dyson and the Fool, Bo is even more astounded that it took so long for her to recognize Tamsin. The feeling in her kiss – Death. The taste of her chi – Death. The current that runs over her skin, the look in her eyes, the form of her face in battle… the many, many clues pile up in Bo's mind like an avalanche. All Tamsin. All Death.

Unconsciously, Bo touches the hilt of her sword again. And as the now familiar itch runs in her veins, she realizes fully now why her weapon is imbibed with the unequivocal feeling of Death – because that is who Bo fell in love with.

"Holy fuck," says Bo aloud, unable to stop herself.

Looking up from the black pool before them and turning her head, Tamsin raises one eyebrow, her green eyes sparkling mischievously as she looks into Bo's. "Damn right, succubus," she says, squeezing her hand.

'Well,' thinks Bo, her throat dry as a result of Tamsin's breathtaking face. 'If I'm going to fall in love with the Grim Reaper, at least she's unbelievably cute.'

Dyson's voice cuts through the haze of Bo's reeling, shocked thoughts. "Let's do this," says the wolf. Says the Fool. "Before I lose my nerve."

Bo looks over to her left to glance at him, knowing that no matter what, he will not lose his nerve. Because he will follow her to the ends of the earth and back. She gives him a reassuring smile before looking back to Tamsin again.

The blonde has not moved her gaze – it is piercing, beautiful, unrelenting. Deadly. And as Bo once again finds herself lost in those green eyes, Tamsin speaks. "I love you," she whispers.

And Bo stares back into the eyes of Death, and smiles more genuinely and happily than she ever has. "I love you, too," she replies, meaning every syllable with all her heart.

Then the three of them together take a long, deep breath. And facing forward, they step into the swirling black pool before them, sinking into its depths without a sound.


	9. Danger

New chapter! Hope you like it… Review! Spur me on! Because shit is definitely getting real.

xxx

Bo regains consciousness uncomfortably. A creeping sense of unease tingles on her skin, and her muscles tense as she lifts from the deep sleep that she can't remember falling into. Eyes still squeezed shut, she runs through her memories, searching for the most recent one. And as she recognizes the sharp and now familiar taste of blood in her mouth, and feels the cold hand that she is still squeezing with her own, she remembers. And she opens her eyes.

The room is white. Bo almost groans – she is getting incredibly sick of white. Lying unmoving on the cold marble floor, her eyes flit upward to see a dripping, dark mass of oily black on the ceiling – the portal they had dropped in through. 'We must have hit the floor and passed out,' she reasons to herself. And then her eyes move to her right hand, which is still tightly grasping the hand of another.

Tamsin is still unconscious, as far as Bo can tell. She lies on her back, her head lolled slightly towards Bo, blonde hair fanned out around her. Her lips are partly open, her eyelids fluttering slightly in her sleep. Her chest rises and falls softly with her breathing. Bo stares for a moment, awed by how someone so formidable can look so innocent. But she doesn't allow herself to be transfixed for too long – the incredible sense of danger in the air makes sure of that.

She lifts herself from the ground as gingerly as possible, her shoulder blades aching from where they must have collided heavily with the marble floor. Letting go of Tamsin's hand, she rolls over onto her stomach, easing her body closer to the unconscious blonde. Grimacing at the taste in her mouth, she spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor. Deciding to ignore her various injuries for now, she places a hand on Tamsin's shoulder, gently shaking it. "Hey," she whispers, softly but urgently. "Tamsin. Wake up."

It takes a moment, and another shake of her shoulder, but then the valkyrie stirs. "Bo?" she says, her voice shaky.

Tamsin opens her eyes, and Bo is met with what is fast becoming her favourite colour – deep, clear green. "Hi," Bo replies softly, and she takes a second to smile in wonder at the woman who feels like… hers. But as much as she would like spend hours just lying there together, she knows they all have to get moving – fast. "My father," she says with no preamble. "How can we tell if he's near?"

At first Tamsin frowns, undoubtedly noticing the fresh blood on the succubus's lips, but she seems to understand the supreme urgency of the situation and holds off from offering herself as a snack. Her forehead furrows then, and her expression is one of shared fear and pain. "I can sense him," she whispers. "He brings an aura of all those he has killed… I can pick up on the strength of it."

Bo nods, and she squeezes Tamsin's shoulder reassuringly. "Is he close?" she asks.

But Tamsin doesn't need to say it. On Bo's other side, she hears a feral growl. Twisting around as fast as she can, she sees Dyson bolt upright from his crumpled position on the floor. His eyes are a canine yellow, and his teeth are bared. "Someone is coming," the wolf spits out.

Bo immediately moves, her back to Tamsin, unconsciously pushing the blonde against a wall, shielding her with her body. Putting her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes dart around the room – and it is just that, a room. There are no windows and no doors. The only possible entrance Bo can fathom is above them, the inky black portal that they entered through. "Where?" she hisses at Dyson. "Where is he coming from?"

Dyson does not have time to answer the question. Almost immediately, a sizzling hot energy starts to move the air in the centre of the room, making it look like something is shimmering there. The hair on Bo's arms stands up – the energy feels _wrong_. Powerful, but sickening in some way. She hears Tamsin retch behind her. "Undeserved death," the valkyrie's voice spits out, loathing filling her words. "He killed many before their destined time to die."

The shimmering area in the room's centre is blackening – it is subtle at first but it clearly builds, a dark mass that looks like it is vibrating into view. Bo holds her confident, protective posture in front of Tamsin, but her mouth is dry with fear. Because as she watches, it is more and more apparent that the dark mass of shimmering energy is taking a solid form. The form of a man.

The man appears with his back to Bo, Tamsin and Dyson – the two women are backed against a corner of the room with the wolf just to their side. The three of them stare with identical expressions on their faces – fearful, but tinged with a kind of desperate, fierce courage. It will be a monstrous fight, but it will be _their_ fight.

With every second, the outline of the man becomes more solid. His shoulders are relaxed but his posture is refined, his hair slightly dishevelled but elegantly so. He holds a staff in his right hand, his feet shoulder width apart. An aggressive stance. Watching the haze of the man's figure become clearer and clearer, Bo squeezes the hilt of her sword tighter. The engravings in the silver bite into her hand, and the electric current of death runs over her flesh with an energy to rival the one emanating from the shimmering figure.

And when the shimmer of vibration is gone, and the Wanderer is standing there before her, solid and real, Bo snarls deep in her throat. She is ready. She stands and she speaks, her narrowed eyes focused with grim purpose at the back of the Wanderer's head. "So. You can't face me like a man then, _Dad_?"

The first thing she hears is Tamsin's fearful hiss from behind her. Without words, she knows the valkyrie is trying to warn her, trying to get her to recognize the full extent of the danger this man represents. And Bo knows that. She knows the power of this man, knows the incredible risk she is taking.

The second sound she hears is different – Bo cannot help the chill that goes down her spine. A low, humourless chuckle resonates through the air, the man's shoulders shaking with it. It seems to cut sharply into her ears, making her wince. It, like the shimmering aura from before, has a strange sickening power that makes Bo's stomach turn.

If the chuckle causes her unease though, it is nothing compared to the face Bo sees as the black robed man turns slowly on the spot. She barely holds in a gasp – below her on the floor, she hears Dyson growl defensively. Tamsin, behind her, stiffens but does not make a sound.

It is as if Bo is looking into her own eyes, only with every aspect of her soul horrendously sucked out. The Wanderer's eyes are exactly the shade of chocolate brown, but they are completely devoid of all warmth. The soft colour and hue looks fake, _wrong_ – inhuman in every way possible. There is no feeling in those eyes, no warmth, no compassion. The rest of his face is more of the same – his cheekbones are high and his chin juts out confidently, his lips are thin and well shaped, his brow is strong and masculine. His features are handsome, boyish, even elegant. But as Bo looks into the face of her father she feels bile rise in her throat, the taste mixing gruesomely with the blood in her mouth.

Every aspect of his physical characteristics indicate a normal man. A handsome, average man. But instead of the range of emotions and traits evident in the eyes of any person Bo has ever met, this man has only one. And it exudes from his every pore.

Evil.

A sly smile appears on the lips of the Wanderer, and he angles his head to the side, his false brown eyes surveying Bo's face. "Ah," he says, in a voice as smooth as butter, but as hideously evil as his face. "My beautiful daughter. I am overjoyed we are finally meeting." His awful smile widens, and his eyes sparkle with a twisted vindictiveness. "Although I _did_ hope it would be sooner."

And then Bo's heart thuds harder with rage as his eyes travel down behind her – to look at Tamsin. The fiery power of death from holding the hilt of her sword pounds through her veins. "Don't you even _look_ at her," she spits out, unable to control herself. The thought of his empty eyes even touching Tamsin's perfect face…

But before the rage takes Bo completely and she draws her sword, a hand grabs her wrist, squeezing it once in warning. And then the valkyrie is standing too, her shoulder pushing Bo's out of the way. Tamsin's eyes quickly meet her own. _Calm down_, they warn. And then they turn to the man who commanded her, the man who owned her. Her shoulders are held straight and proud, her jaw set and strong. And Bo watches in awe as she sees a side of Tamsin she has only ever seen in battle – not sarcastic and snarky, not emotional or fearful. As the blonde fixes her sharp green glare on the Wanderer's face, Bo recognizes the Tamsin of war – the age old valkyrie who knows exactly what she is doing.

But the Wanderer only shakes his head, mocking disappointment written on his handsome features. "Now you, dear one," he says softly. "I will admit that I had more faith in you." His unsightly eyes are fixed intently on Tamsin, but he speaks almost to himself. "All these many years you have been an efficient and faithful servant. Plus with your added… _credentials_." He lifts a shoulder in an offhand shrug, but his smile flashes dangerously. "Yes, I expected more."

Bo's heart skips a beat as the implications of this sentence sink in. 'He knows Tamsin's true identity,' she realizes. And her gaze moves quickly to the blonde, intent on seeing how she takes this rather unsubtle admission to who she really is.

But when Bo's eyes land on Tamsin, they are met with a surprise – the valkyrie is not looking exposed, or even angry. She looks… confused. Her brow is furrowed, and she has not looked away from the Wanderer's ghastly face. "_Credentials?_" she sneers, and she bares her teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about, but you're not going to fool me into switching back over to your side. Not now." She swallows, and her eyes flash with a danger of her own. "I was your slave for too fucking long, old man."

However moving the feeling in this admission is, Bo almost doesn't even hear it. Her heart pounds in her chest as new information sinks in. 'Tamsin has no idea,' she thinks, her mind racing. 'She has no idea who she is.'

But… it's not that surprising. Not really. In fact, now that Bo thinks about it, it might even be a bigger deal if Tamsin actually did know her full power – her place as the ultimate end of everything – as Death itself. No… what really makes Bo uneasy is the knowledge that, willing or not, Tamsin is going to _have_ to find out sooner or later. And with the situation they are in now, it's probably going to be sooner.

Bo swallows, a sudden lump appearing in her throat. 'And the real question is… who's going to tell her?'

Bo is saved dwelling on this uncomfortable thought for much longer though, as the Wanderer is speaking again, his words now coated with a sickening amusement. "So loyal," he drawls, looking at Tamsin. Then his eyes slide to Bo, the same awful smile resting on his thin lips. "I wonder what it is about you, dear daughter," he adds softly.

It is at this point that Dyson stands too, lifting himself off the floor with a venomous intent. Looking quickly into his face, Bo can see his eyes flash yellow. "You're never going to get to find out," snarls the wolf. "Stay away from her." His shoulders shake, his jaw working furiously, his body aching to burst free of its human form.

But the Wanderer just laughs – the empty, horrific sound echoing around the empty white room. "Stay away from her? When she's just strolled right up to my proverbial front door?" He waves his left hand toward the swirling inky black portal on the ceiling before smirking mockingly at Dyson once more. "I must admit it baffles me – I thought certainly you would head right for the gate, but instead you walk straight into my arms." His empty brown eyes swivel to stare again at Bo, the sickening quality of his gaze making her retch. "Unless you mean to fight me," he adds, his voice now stronger, more purposeful. Bo can see his hand tighten on his wooden staff. "Which would be… ill advised. The smartest thing for you all to do is give in quietly."

There is no spoken reply to this that Bo can reasonably come up with. In all fairness, her father has a point – he is strong. It is possible, likely even, that they will die here fighting him. Giving in… staying here with him and convincing him to let Dyson and Tamsin go – it might be the best move.

But there is something inside Bo that knows it's not the _right_ move. As much as she knows she could try to sacrifice herself for her friends, she also knows how unlikely it is they would ever get out of this godforsaken place alive. She can see in her father's eyes that he is nothing but evil – he will not allow it.

There is even more to it than this though – there is more than just having no other choice. Fighting the Wanderer represents a kind of freedom for them all. For Tamsin, it is a kind of freedom that she has not had for what probably has been centuries… possibly even millennia. It hurts Bo more than she can say that this unbelievably amazing woman has been used in this way for so long.

As for Bo herself… she feels a desperate need to be released from obligation to this monster – as she has proved before, she will not be held down by her family. Not even blood is strong enough to pull her away from where she belongs, with the people she loves.

Not even blood. This sentiment pounds in her brain like a mantra, and then she tastes the blood in her mouth again, the metallic sharpness of it stronger than before. And the taste spurs her on – her heart thuds furiously against her ribcage, and her hand, which hasn't moved from the hilt of her sword, grips it even tighter. And then with a cry of all the rage and righteousness building up inside her, Bo pulls her sword from its scabbard, the shining sapphire blade ringing in the air with a sound both exhilarating and deadly.

Weapon held aloft, eyes flashing powerful blue, Bo stands triumphantly before her father. With twin snarls she is joined by her loyal wolf at one shoulder, and her deadly love at the other. And she spits her words through her blood stained teeth. "Not a fucking chance."


	10. Fight

First of all, you guys are amazing – thank you so much for the kind words. Some of those just straight up made me blush. I love that you love my story and my writing, and I hope that I continue to live up to your amazing compliments.

Second of all – this one is a bit long, and a bit disgusting. And I like it. And I hope you do too!

Review, let me know what you think! And thanks again, lovely people.

xxx

For a moment all Bo sees is a slow, malicious smile spread across the face of her father. And then he shakes his head – just a little. His lips part as his mouth forms two words. "Wrong move."

And then everything goes black.

A heated haze of fear surrounds Bo like a blanket, and in a matter of seconds she is covered in a cold sweat. It is completely dark – the bright white of the walls erased as if it was never there. She can feel her friends pressing against either side of her – Dyson's shoulders are bare against her own, Tamsin's white t shirt is sticking to her.

And she can feel something else as well. A presence that seems to be just out of reach, just a little too far to be detectable. Hidden, in the dark. Bo finds herself shivering, her heart pounding. She hears a soft echo of a cold, humourless laugh. The hair on the back of her neck stands up. This is bad. This is very, very bad.

"He's in the darkness!" hisses Tamsin, and there is a note of fear in the valkyrie's voice that scares Bo almost more than anything else. "He's hiding in it – he can attack at any time!" Her fingers are suddenly grasping Bo's arm, squeezing urgently. "Prepare yourself! Focus your mind!"

"Focus my mind?" Bo whispers frantically. She feels unbelievably lost, a mewling child up against the power of the gods. She cannot see a thing, the darkness is just so utterly absolute – the thickness of it is so heavy it is hard to breathe. She is scared. So scared. "How? What is he going to – "

Pain.

Pain erupts through her mind, and it is everything she can feel. She is in so much pain that she is unaware of her own body, unaware of her surroundings, unaware even of the darkness that envelops her and surrounds her very heart. She can't fathom how she could possibly be feeling this much blinding earth-shattering pain – she must have been skinned alive, burnt to a crisp, torn to pieces, crushed, beaten… and even all of that cannot explain the heart wrenching, astounding, _insurmountable_ pain that feels like it will destroy her body and her mind…

Then it is over. Bo stops screaming, and becomes aware that she was screaming. Her throat is raw and burning, her body aches with the memory of what was done to it, tears run down her face where she must have wept. A wet, pathetic choke escapes her mouth, a sob of disbelief. She cannot fathom what has happened to her. All she knows is that she cannot – she _will_ not stand going through it again.

So when she hears the voice of her father – soft, clipped and even – the fear that flashes through her veins is almost enough to bring her to her knees. "Just a taste," says the voice. "A taste of what I can do."

Bo opens her eyes, and she realizes they were closed – shut tight against the pain, not that it helped. And she realizes she can see – they are in a dark room, but the silhouette of the Wanderer before her is clearly visible. Her heart stops then as she looks quickly to her right – and sees no one there. "Where are Tamsin and Dyson?" she gasps, her voice sounding hoarse and desperate. "What have you done to them?"

In the dim light, the Wanderer smiles. "Why, they're right next to you, Bo. They're actually quite worried, as their succubus hero seems to have collapsed, unresponsive, in insurmountable pain." His eyes glint with malice. "The look on Death's face as she watched you scream in agony – I must say I enjoyed it. She did fail me, after all."

Bo is still scared – terrified, in fact. But upon hearing her father talk about Tamsin like this, and picturing the look of helpless horror that must have adorned the valkyrie's perfect features… the fear takes a back seat. Because now Bo is angry. "Where are we?" she spits, her words sharp and poisonous sounding.

Her father gives no reaction to her change in tone other than a slight raise of his eyebrow. Other than that small display of emotion, his face is irrevocably hollow – devoid of any human feeling. "We're in your mind," he says, and his voice has that same quality, the same evil. "You've passed out cold from the pain." He smirks. "I thought you might need – a break. A little time out, to process exactly what you're up against." And then he takes a step forward. "So now you know what I can do… dear daughter, I truly beg of you. Give up." Another step forward, and his arms are outstretched, his welcoming posture sickeningly opposite to his evil face. "Join me."

It might have worked. It really might have. The ache of the pain – the memory of that searing, torturous feeling… it is still present in Bo's mind, like acid coating the tissue of her brain. She never, ever, ever wants to feel that again. It could destroy her – it will destroy her. She could give up. Her father is powerful… that is very evident now. Being his right hand maiden would be better than that pain. Anything would be better than that pain.

Yes, Bo is very close to giving in. If it wasn't for one thing. One little mistake the Wanderer has made. Words echo through her ears, and her already pounding heartbeat thuds harder still – _The look on Death's face as she watched you scream in agony_.

Bo grits her teeth. Tamsin's face.

Tamsin's.

'_I have to get back to her_,' is the only thought that Bo has.

There is something that is happening to Bo's blood as it pounds through her veins – something that starts slow, but gains what seems like impossible strength with every passing second. Starting in her toes, a feeling like the coldest ice and the hottest fire is mingling as it rushes up through her body. She looks into the false brown eyes of the Wanderer. She smiles.

She closes her eyes. 'This is not where I am,' she thinks, knowing it to be true. 'I am lying on the floor, unconscious, in Valhalla with Tamsin and Dyson. This is my mind. This is all an illusion.'

"No!" a voice thunders, and the power and might in that voice could make a god faint with fear.

But Bo is so far away now – she has retreated inside herself, concentrating on the truth she knows is there. 'This isn't real,' she repeats in her mind. And the feeling of burning ice amplifies incredibly as it reaches her right hand – and becomes something that she recognizes. 'I am holding my sword,' she realizes. 'Where ever my body is – my hand is holding my sword.' She grounds herself to that, gritting her teeth, biting her tongue, tasting the sharp blood in her mouth. 'Go to the sword,' she tells herself. A familiar heady rush floods through her system. Death floods through her system. And it is glorious.

What happens next is not a surprise. The Wanderer sends the pain again – and from the second Bo registers it, she knows it is worse than before. It hurts so fucking much. Every fibre in her body screams with the sheer intensity. But this time it is different.

Because Bo refuses to allow herself to be subjected to it this time. He is the Wanderer, but she is the unaligned succubus. She is powerful, strong – everything he is and more. She is angry, and it kills her fear. And she knows what she is doing. She is focusing her mind – bringing herself back to her body in the most basic and irrefutable way. Through the sword.

Somehow she knows – through the sword, he cannot touch her.

And miraculously, it works. It still hurts – it hurts more than Bo can say. But it's a different kind of hurt. She can store it in a separate part of her mind, lock it away in that dimly lit room. Escape it. Go back to reality.

And she does.

With a gasp like a drowning man breaking the water's surface, Bo is back in her body. It is dark again – complete and utter darkness. She can feel her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, can feel where the silver has literally cut into her hand – she feels the warm blood run down her wrist. And then can feel two pairs of hands on her. And she hears her favourite voice in the world.

"Fucking finally, succubus!" explodes Tamsin, clearly both endlessly frustrated and incredibly relieved.

Dyson's strong hands squeeze her arm. "Are you okay?" his voice urges her. "You were screaming…"

Bo cannot see herself – she cannot see anything – but she knows her eyes are flashing blue. "I'm fine," she says. She tries to pull herself together, tries to assess her surroundings. She is back to where she was – surrounded by the blanket of darkness. But something is different. She narrows her eyes. Something feels different.

She bolts to her feet, pulling both her companions with her. And without warning, even to herself, her instincts take over. She raises her sword, and with a wordless yell, she slashes the air in front of her.

But it isn't air. And even though somehow, on some level, she knew what would happen, Bo still feels surprise as she feels the resistance of her blade cutting through flesh. And as she hears a howl of pain, she is simultaneously blinded.

Because the room is white again. The suffocating blackness is gone and before her, crumpled on the ground, is her father, his chest split open in a wide, bloody wound. A wound from her sword. She holds the deadly blade with a fierce pride, its sapphire hue sparkling in the bright light that surrounds them. She looks down at her father, and she gives him a cold, satisfied smile. And she knows that in the same way he cannot touch her with the pain, he cannot hide in the darkness from her anymore either.

His flesh split open, his eyes filled with fury – the Wanderer looks up into Bo's face. And in this moment, she sees all attempts at subtlety disappear from his features. His eyes tighten into slits. His teeth are bared. And a feral snarl emits from his mouth.

Tamsin drops to the floor with a bloodcurdling scream.

Bo does not stop to think before she drops to the valkyrie's side – it is pure instinct. Dyson is already there, trying desperately to hold her writhing body down. Tamsin twists with pain, horrifying screams emitting from her mouth, each one like a knife stabbing into Bo's chest. And she reaches out to touch the blonde woman's arm, her heart breaking.

It happens as soon as their skin touches. It is like a bolt of lightning – that's the only thing Bo can compare it to. There is no sound, but the shock of it seems to heat her entire body, igniting the blood in her veins. A primal hiss emits from her lips and her eyes turn a vivid, electric blue. Because Tamsin's defences are down, she is letting what is usually holed up inside her out. And when Bo touches her skin, the Death that runs over it like a current shoots straight into Bo's system like the strongest shot of adrenaline there could ever be.

And as Tamsin's convulsing body immediately falls still, Bo jumps to her feet again – supercharged, filled to the brim with an energy stronger than anything else.

Then she is hit in the skull with a wooden staff swung with the momentum of the deadliest flail.

Immediately, her skull is cracked. She is sure of that – she was hit too hard, with too much force. Searing pain shoots across the side of her head, and blood surges from her wound with a truly gruesome power that soon has her hair, neck and right shoulder drenched in sticky, hot liquid.

Bo doesn't care.

She roars a ferocious battle cry – and lifting her sword, she is only half amazed to see that the brilliant lustrous weapon is glowing blue now. The same electric, glowing blue that radiates from her eyes. She lunges with the sword, and her weapon is just fast enough to slice through the taut flesh of her father's forearm. The blood sprays across the white floor. Bo curls her lip as some of it splashes at her feet, soiling her boots. Overdramatic. He is not even close to being butchered enough. Not yet.

Bo is too cocky. Expertly, she dodges the first retaliatory swing of the Wanderer's staff. And as she grins, he quickly reverses his deadly weapon – and it collides heavily with her ribs, breaking two. Bo coughs blood, and her head pounds, the flow of vital fluid from her previous wound not slowing in the slightest.

But Bo doesn't care.

Her father makes a mistake, too. He cackles madly at the sight he sees – his daughter choking on her own blood, a tip of bone poking out from her side. But in his sick, twisted joy, he does not move out of the way fast enough, and Bo's sword catches him in the neck.

His blood flows like a waterfall of gore from his throat. It is gruesome, horrifying, glorious. But Bo is not even distracted for a second. Seeing a moment of vulnerability, she lunges forward once more, sword glowing brilliant blue, blood gushing red. She aims for his heart.

His staff rises up to meet her sword, stopping it in its tracks. With a hiss of anger, Bo watches her blade stick in the wood of the Wanderer's staff, and she moves forward with a cry of fury. "Why won't you fucking die, old man," she spits in his face, blood flying from her mouth as it mingles with her speech.

The Wanderer just laughs, a horrible, empty sound of pure evil. His smile is not a smile – it is a wound, split open just like the open chasm of his throat. Where his throat spills his blood though, his evil lips spill words. "You cannot defeat me, Bo," he cackles, and his once smooth voice now sounds like sandpaper on rust. "Do you really think I would have come to face you if I didn't know that I couldn't die at your hands?"

The man lunges back from his daughter and he gives his staff a hefty pull – jerking her still attached sword from her hands. Bo hisses with pain as she is separated from her weapon – as soon as it leaves her hands, the sizzling blue of its blade fades out. "What do you mean?" she growls, her eyes staring loathingly at the monster before her.

His head turns mockingly to the side. He reaches out for the sword sticking from his staff, and with a bare hand, he grasps the razor sharp blade. And squeezes. And as the skin of his palm is sliced through like butter, he wrenches the sword out of the wood and tosses it carelessly at the floor by his feet. "Are you familiar with the work of the dís?" he asks, blood dripping from his fingertips onto the floor.

Bo knows that her father's little show with the sword is meant to shock her, to scare her. But all she feels is insurmountable hate. It boils at the surface of her brain, making her see red. "So you got your fortune told?" she replies, her voice caked with revulsion. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

The Wanderer shows no reaction to her remark except to smirk at her with contempt. "I imprisoned the most powerful dís alive, many centuries ago," he says, and with his every word, Bo can see his vocal cords bulge through the slit in his neck. "And I made her tell me of my future." His eyes glint with malice. "She told me I would have a child. A powerful child. She told me I would fight to the death with my child." And then his lips pull back over his teeth in the most terrifying snarl Bo has ever seen. "She told me my child would never be able to kill me."

With every fibre of her being, Bo wishes it wasn't true. But she knows it is. With every second, her breath is coming harder and harder, and blood spurts uncontrollably from her head and torso with every beat of her heart. The red around the edges of her vision is starting to turn to black. She will lose consciousness soon.

But when she looks into the eyes of her father, she does not feel fear. She does not feel sad, knowing her death is inevitable. It is different now, being _sure_ she will lose. Knowing that centuries before she was born, this fate was already determined. At least she has made it this far. And as she feels the beginning of Death creeping around her heart, encasing it, she finds she only has one regret.

'If only I could have kept Tamsin from him."

And Bo falls to her knees, bleeding internally, cracked skull, broken ribs. Broken heart. And her father looks upon his only child, and smiles. He will enjoy watching her die, unable to save her friends or her love.

Then something happens that no one predicted. That no one expected.

The tip of Bo's sword erupts through the chest of the Wanderer, its bloody tip adorned with a piece of his still beating heart. And his mouth forms a silent, astonished 'o' as he looks at it, unable to fathom what has happened. Because Bo, who still kneels before him, did not wield the sword.

Dyson did.

The wolf stands behind the defeated Wanderer, his blonde hair tipped with blood, his eyes yellow, his teeth bared in a triumphant snarl. And as a final trickle of blood runs from his victim's lips, Dyson speaks. "Wolves do not wield weapons," he says, his voice somehow even, calm. "We are known for it." And then the edges of his lips turn up in a grim smile. "But this time, I decided to make an exception."

And the Fool stands victorious, his endless loyalty finally becoming his greatest triumph. Death lies still, peaceful, the source of the turmoil that has enslaved her for so many years finally about to be extinguished.

And in his final moments, the Wanderer stares into the face of his only child. He falls to his knees, the sword that is embedded in his chest falling with him. A strangled choke emits from his lips, but no words. This evil shell of a man does not deserve last words.

There is a short second where two sets of eyes lock, their chocolate brown hue identical. And then at the exact same moment, Bo and her father fall face forward onto the floor, their bodies crumpled limp and bloody on the hard, white marble.


	11. Dying

Oh hello lovely people – another chapter for you! Thank you once again for all the wonderful feedback, you are unquestionably awesome. Anyway, hope you enjoy this, I think it's one of my favourites so far. Let me know in the reviews!

xxx

Cold. Bo is so cold.

Her eyelids flutter, half open, and she is not sure if she is awake or asleep. All she knows is the horrible, bone deep chill that is settled in her body, draining the life from her.

Her broken body shudders with the cold then. If she still had the ability to distinguish spoken words, perhaps she could understand the frantic voice that breaks the surrounding silence at her movement. But she is far past that point. Her senses are debilitated almost completely from the crushing head wound that is now truly taking its toll. All she really understands now is the cold. And the death.

It's almost funny – she has tasted Death, has fought alongside it, has twisted her fingers through its hair and pushed her fingernails into its skin with fevered desire. She associates death with passion, with vigor, with unbridled sexuality.

Death is taking a different role now, a slow, fading one. It is a fist, clenched around her failing heart, crushing it with gentle deadliness. It seeps through her body like ice, making her colder. It slows the blood in her veins, even as she bleeds out onto the floor. It slows her heart, surrounding it, calming it. Bo imagines death as a lullaby. It cradles her in its cold arms, soothing her to sleep.

_Hush, now. It's time to let go._

She feels hands on her skin. They are warm, but she barely notices. Her core is like ice, and she is retreating there, becoming less and less a part of the outside world. The hands are large, and strong. They shake her, but she doesn't really feel it. She is indifferent. Fading. Losing interest in living.

Maybe it really is time to let go.

A rumbling noise. It is a voice again, probably. A low, concerned baritone. The hands shake her again, and if Bo could still laugh, she would – the urgency in the voice is comical. Nothing is urgent anymore. Nothing needs to be.

It is an amazing feeling, just not to care. Bo floats languidly in and out of consciousness, and every time she does, her conscious state is a little less aware; a little less alive. The cold that embraces her body starts to feel like the way it _should_ be – she finds herself resenting the irritating flow of blood through her veins, the tired pump of her heart. And then her capacity to even feel resentment fades away – disappears into the void of the living person she used to be.

Something curious happens – from her far away consciousness, Bo recognizes the feeling of lips on her own. They are familiar and warm, and even in her rapidly fading state, Bo knows that they are gentle, caring and loving. And as if in an afterthought, it occurs to her that maybe if she felt like it, she could feed on that care – feed on that love. Floating in a sea of her own demise, Bo considers it.

But ultimately, that is not how it works. Although Bo does not recognize it, (as she cannot recognize much of anything anymore) she is simply not alive enough to be saved now. And although Dyson's lips – for they are Dyson's – are on hers, the succubus ability inside of her is just not enough to change the deadly course she is on. She is dying. She will die.

When Bo's father had hit her with his staff, cracking her skull, Bo had run on adrenaline – fighting him still, using the power in her sword to spur her on, using the sheer feeling of hatred to land blow after blow. But that swing – that cracked skull – was simply too much for Bo's body. The Wanderer had hit an important place, and her brain cannot recover now. Let alone all the blood she lost through the wound, and how when she fell to the floor a broken rib punctured a lung.

No – this is the end of Bo Dennis. Of course Dyson, kneeling next to his fallen companion, pressing his lips to hers, will not believe it. When Bo doesn't feed from him, he lets out a cry of frustration – one that Bo doesn't hear, as she has momentarily slipped into full unconsciousness again. But then Dyson looks to the other woman lying on the floor by his side. A woman whose heart is still pounding strongly, despite the fact that she is unconscious too.

When the warm lips lift from her own cold ones, Bo barely notices. And then for a second everything is quiet, peaceful. The iron fist of death around her heart squeezes a little more, killing her a little more. She welcomes it, just wishing she could sink into the cold faster – it is her time. Life is so tiring.

But then something very, very strange happens. Bo can hear again, for some reason. There is a sound – and she notices. It is another voice – higher pitched and feminine, but somehow harsher than the baritone from before. And although Bo really is ready to surrender, ready to leave her broken body behind, something in this new voice makes her hesitate.

Bo doesn't know this, but there is a somewhat of a final technicality when one is leaving their life behind. Their body obviously must be broken, their mind must have that willing desire to be broken too. There must be no way out. And ninety nine point nine percent of the time, there _is _no way out. The individual dies. They are gone. Finished.

But there is one more tiny, last minute, crucially important _thing_ that must happen. To pass into the realm of the dead, to truly leave your life behind, you must pass before Death itself. And even if she doesn't consciously know she's doing it, she must let you in.

And Bo is ready – her body and mind are shattered, wasted, wrecked. Five to ten minutes and her heart will stop beating. There is only this one little thing she must do now, to die. She must pass by Death. And that is why when Death just so happens to speak, a foot away from her body, Bo is able to hear her.

The voice of the Grim Reaper is groggy at first, unsure. Bo listens, rapt.

Then suddenly there are hands on her again, and these are hands that draw much more of Bo's attention than those warm ones that were on her earlier. These are cold – the same icy cold that is wrapped around her failing heart. And as they touch Bo's skin, something stirs obediently inside her. Her dying heart shudders as the deathly presence around it pauses, its attention elsewhere now.

It almost doesn't even matter. Bo is so fucking close – she's so far along. One more tiny little step and she would tip over the edge and endless blackness would claim her. It really almost doesn't matter.

But it does. Because Tamsin – for of course it is Tamsin – is Death herself. And Tamsin is completely, irreversibly, _painstakingly_ in love with Bo. And for the first time in the history of everything, the tiny little afterthought step really counts.

Because Death does _not_ consent. Not one fucking bit.

Lips crash into Bo's. The result is that Bo's body almost short circuits with conflict – she is too far gone for this. The succubus side of her doesn't work anymore, it's simply gone. It doesn't exist. There is no way a kiss will allow her to feed.

Unless of course, _this_ particular individual kisses her.

At first, Bo's doomed body fights it. It wants to die so badly. The icy hand that clutches her heart rages in protest, just wanting to continue on its deadly path.

Death says no.

And slowly, unwillingly, the cold that is taking Bo's life away releases its hold. Just a little bit. Just because goddamn it, it has to. And it just so happens that this tiny little edge is all that the succubus in Bo needs.

Her lips open against Tamsin's. And inexplicably her power heads deep inside Tamsin's core and starts pulling on the valkyrie's powerful chi in the most desperate kiss Bo has ever had.

Usually, if Bo concentrates on the chi that flows into her body, she can actually feel her injuries mend. It has become a sort of intriguing habit of hers – feeling flesh and bone mend back together as the energy of another lends her life. If she had been concentrating in this particular instance, she would have noticed Tamsin's chi moving to her brain first, re connecting dead neurotransmitters, re forming fried dendrites, allowing neurons to flow with the electricity of life again. She would have been incredulously impressed as chi worked to invigorate her very mind – actually mending her consciousness as well as her broken body. In all likelihood, it would have been one of the more fascinating experiences of her life.

But Bo really can't concentrate on anything but kissing the miraculous woman she has fallen so incredibly in love with.

Tamsin's lips are still for a moment, surprised so thoroughly that somehow, Bo is really feeding. But the surprise only lasts a second – realizing that this is actually happening, the valkyrie almost immediately slips her tongue into Bo's mouth, tasting her, revelling in the joy of feeling Bo's wanting mouth against her own. Tamsin sucks on Bo's lower lip and twists her fingers into blood soaked hair. A feverish moan escapes her as the succubus takes a particularly strong pull from her core. She is unbelievably, hysterically aroused. She desperately wants more. She wants Bo to do anything she wants to her, in every way that she can. She wants to be _used_.

That feeling is incredibly evident in her kiss. As Bo sucks on Tamsin's tongue and the valkyrie presses her hips so desperately into her own, her sexual energy is so strong Bo almost passes out again from just that. Tamsin tastes unbelievable – passionate, deadly, full of vigor and power. A pulsing heat mingles with the rapidly fading ice in Bo's veins. And then with a burst of energy, she lifts herself off the floor, pushing her body into Tamsin's, rolling them over so she is on top of the blonde, kissing her with a fierce joy.

It is in that moment that she pulls back for a second to take a breath – and then it hits her. Against all odds, against the very laws of life and death – Bo is _alive_.

Her eyes flutter open at the same time Tamsin's do. And chocolate brown locks with deep green, the two of them wearing identical expressions of passion and wonder. A few strands of Bo's hair, crusty with dried blood, fall into her face.

Cautiously, Tamsin lifts a hand to catch the lock of hair and tuck it back behind Bo's ear. And then her fingers trace further upward, touching the area where the succubus's skull was cracked. There is only dried blood there now, phantom evidence of a wound that has now been erased.

There is complete silence for several long moments. Tamsin and Bo continue to stare into each others eyes, utterly disbelievingly. Bo's heart beats steadily in her chest, pressing against Tamsin's. Her lungs fill with air – healthy, whole. Dyson sits sprawled by their side, his lips parted in shock, blood on his mouth from where he tried to revive Bo and couldn't.

But Tamsin could. And she did.

It is Bo who speaks first. Her voice is hoarse – fitting, as she has just come back from the brink of death. "You're amazing," she whispers, unable to tear her eyes away from the breathtaking green of Tamsin's.

The valkyrie's voice is shaky too – the tremor there laced with the same sense of disbelief that permeates the room with a otherworldly power. However, Tamsin's tone is familiar – the sardonic confidence there that somehow makes Bo want to punch her and kiss her all at the same time. "That's what all the girls say," smirks the blonde, her lips turning upward in a cocky half smile.

Bo settles for kissing her.


	12. Impossible

I know, I am evil. This is long overdue, short, and it's going to leave you hanging. You are collectively too lovely and sweet for my bullshit, readers. But never fear – this is the chapter that I am using as a push to get back into writing this story. More soon. Really.

Reviews welcome and highly appreciated, praising or otherwise. And get ready for the home stretch. It'll be a good one, I promise.

xxxxxx

The silence is filled with so many things.

The three of them walk along together, but each of them is deep in their own thoughts. Dyson walks two steps behind, his eyes darting back and forth along the white hallway. He watches, wary. He almost lost someone he cares about today – maybe the person he cares _most_ about.

Every so often, he takes a break from his vigilant watch to look at the back of Bo's head – her hair still soaked in her own blood, but she is alive. Walking along, breathing. And Dyson looks down at the succubus's hand, fingers entwined with those of the lithe blonde woman beside her. As he sees Bo's fingers squeeze the valkyrie's slightly, the wolf wonders idly why it doesn't bother him. He knows that whatever _this_ is cannot be a fleeting attraction – Tamsin will have Bo. And Dyson loves Bo.

But maybe, he ponders, his love is allowing him to recognize who Bo should truly be with. His mind flashes back to trying to save her – and failing. But Tamsin didn't fail. However much he wishes it could be him, it isn't. And if it means Bo can be alive where otherwise she would be dead… Dyson is okay with that. He returns to scanning the area for threats, his heart at peace. She will be safe, he thinks. And he smiles.

Ahead of him, Tamsin is lost in her head as well. She feels the warm hand in hers, more grateful for Bo's vitality than anything else. _Alive. She's alive._

But there is something else that Tamsin knows, something that she has been avoiding but can't avoid much longer. She knows that she saved Bo's life – that she is the sole reason the succubus's heart beats still. And she would not have it any other way.

She just knows that she should not have been able to do it.

Tamsin is a valkyrie. She knows the rules of life and death better than she knows the taste of her favourite scotch whisky, which is saying something. The state Bo had been in… she was too far gone. The spark of her consciousness had just not been enough to cling to life – she should have died. Not for the first time, Tamsin glances sideways, taking in the soft features of the woman holding her hand. _She's alive._

She shouldn't be.

There is something else. A persistent, itching phrase that keeps repeating in the back of Tamsin's mind, pushing her to think things she just does not want to think about. She can still see the face of the Wanderer, sneering at her. 'With your added… _credentials_… I expected more.'

Tamsin hadn't known what it meant when he said it. She still doesn't.

… Maybe she does.

_No, no, no,_ she tells herself quickly, as her thoughts go back to that damn place again. _You are being craaaazy._ Tamsin hates that she is thinking this way. It's ridiculous. It's unbelievable. It's impossible.

… Is it?

There is an old story. Tamsin hasn't heard it for many centuries, but a long time ago it was a fable that she repeated often to younger valkyries, something to pass the time between drinks. She didn't know why it was her favourite – for some reason it had always just fascinated her.

The story is about the path to the afterlife.

It starts with life – everything does. Beating hearts, lungs filling again and again with air. The feel of sun on skin. Love, pain. Everything that happens in life. Pain. Vitality. Passion.

Every living thing will pass on this journey. Perhaps they will love, perhaps they will lose that love. They will walk along the road of their own mortality, until the one day that mortality expires. Because for everyone, it will expire.

Waiting at the end of the road, Tamsin was told, there is a lone figure. A gatekeeper, the epitome and at the same time the ultimate antithesis to life. The figure has been told differently in some stories – sometimes the figure is hooded, dressed in black, faceless and voiceless. Sometimes the figure will vary, depending on the individual who greets them – appearing as a mother, a lover, a son.

A chill runs over Tamsin's spine before she can quite suppress it. Because there is another oft told variant of the tale – sometimes the figure is a woman. The valkyrie swallows, her heart skipping a beat. A tall, blonde woman.

"Tamsin."

Bo's voice is a sudden, yet welcome distraction from the dangerous direction Tamsin's thoughts were headed in. Startled but relieved, the valkyrie looks to the beautiful woman holding her hand. Bo's chocolate eyes are warm, content. But there is also a question, a lingering _something_ hidden in the depths of them. "Are you okay?" the succubus asks, after a pause.

Tamsin pauses too, for a second. "Yes," she decides, then. The corner of her lips draw up in a half smile. "Just thinking."

Bo looks into Tamsin's eyes. Green, deep and ageless. Bo can see so much potential in those eyes. For a moment, she allows herself to think of what they could be together. Her father is dead – the most immediate and undeniable threat is gone. Bo thinks of what they will do – continue on to the centre of Valhalla, open the gate to the mortal world. Travel back to their friends and loved ones. Recover from this fucking unexplainable ordeal in each others' arms. She smiles, contented.

Unfortunately, there is one more thing she knows they still need to tackle. And this lingering _thing_ isn't a bad guy they can thrust a sword through the heart of. It isn't a demon that can be cast back to the depths. It is something much, much worse than all of that.

"Tamsin," Bo says again, her thoughts somehow translating to speech before she can reel them in. As the words escape her lips, they feel terrifyingly unguarded. She casts a quick look to Dyson, who is walking behind them. With one look at him, Bo knows that if he wanted to overhear them, he could. His wolf's ears are sharp. But he will not. Her heart swells with companionate love as she glimpses quickly at his averted eyes. He is giving them privacy, purposely turning a deaf ear to their conversation.

"You already said that," comes Tamsin's voice, a smile in her mildly snarky tone. "Hell, Bo, your short term memory was affected by your little ordeal, wasn't it?"

For a second Bo isn't sure if she is quite brave enough to continue with what she has to say. She wants so badly to just shoot a joking comment back at the woman she loves, squeeze her hand tighter and forget the whole thing. It would be so easy.

But it would be wrong. She sighs internally, steeling herself. _Everyone deserves to know who they are_.

"There's something I have to tell you."

Tamsin's shoulders tense, briefly. Her sharp green eyes flicker over Bo's face, searching. For a second, the succubus's stomach clenches with fierce apprehension. Because although there should be no reason for it … it feels as though the valkyrie knows exactly what she is about to be told. 'Impossible,' thinks Bo.

The moment passes quickly, and then the only look on Tamsin's face is mild confusion, mixed with a sort of amusement. "Oh god," replies the valkyrie, a trademark smirk adorning her Nordic features. "Are you breaking up with me?"

Bo snorts, allowing herself to roll her eyes, to escape again from the weight of the information she must give. "If only I could get out that easy," she remarks with a soft smile. She feels the expression fall from her lips quickly, though, as the lines in her face turn serious. "No," she says then. "Something else." She swallows. "Something about… just you, actually."

The look is back – the knowing look, the impossible look that says Tamsin knows entirely more than she should. It is quickly replaced by a blank, guarded stare. Green eyes flicker cautiously. The valkyrie says nothing. Waiting. And somehow Bo finds the courage to speak again.

"Do you remember the dís? How she talked about fate?" Bo doesn't know if this is the right way to say it – she doesn't know if there _is_ a right way to say it. But this is the only way she can really do it. The only way she can get the words out.

Tamsin is silent for a moment, as they walk. Bo is no longer looking at her. If she were to be honest with herself, she knows it is because she is too scared to see that knowing expression in those green eyes – she is too afraid to see the inevitable realization there. But it is all futile anyway. Bo can hear it in her voice. "I remember," Tamsin says simply. "I remember… she wouldn't read me." There is a shaky intake of breath. "She said… I was an obstacle in the tapestry of fate."

The response is unexpectedly specific. And very eerily on track with exactly what Bo is getting at. And she is caught off guard. Her next words are careful, probing. She still can't look Tamsin in the eye. "And… you remember she said she knew your identity? Your true identity?"

Although they are spoken softly, Bo feels like her words fall like anvils in the empty white halls. Her heart pounds in her throat. Her palm is sweaty – or is that Tamsin's? Her breath is shaky and uneven as she waits for an answer. Eventually it comes. And it is everything she has feared.

She can't help but look into Tamsin's eyes now. Even before the valkyrie speaks, there is a crackling power that surrounds her, that draws Bo's nervous jaw up, draws her brown eyes to Tamsin's green ones. Their gazes lock. "You know too," the valkyrie says simply.

It is not a question. As well, it is not an accusation – there is no fire in that voice, no resentment, no anger. Just knowledge, truth, and a tinge of something like sadness that threatens to break Bo's heart. She can't help the tremor in her voice as she responds, her tone sounding pathetically helpless to her own ears. "I haven't known for long."

This is a cop out, and Tamsin's gaze acknowledges that. "But you know," she repeats, her voice flat.

Bo cannot speak. She nods.

And she waits.


	13. Home

I KNOW. I'M SO SORRY.

Seriously. I suck. I really did mean to update earlier… but damn it life, for getting in the way. I think I really needed a kick in the ass (in the form of attending Fan Expo and seeing Rachel Skarsten put her arm around Anna Silk and say the word 'Valkubus') to get going with this, and I did it.

Yeah. So this is finished.

And I'm reeeeally happy with it, because I actually managed to wrap up the crazy storyline idea I came up with ages ago (like Chapter 4!) So I hope you guys like it. And I apologize again.

Also, let's do a disclaimer. I don't own Lost Girl, or any of the mythology/phrases from mythology that occur in this chapter/story.

Okay. I think that's it. Is anyone else nervous? Eeeeee.

Let me know what you think. Love you guys.

xxxxxxx

Their footsteps sound strange. They are the loudest thing in the hall, the most prominent. But the most insignificant. They are walking through a mystical, ethereal palace of the gods, journeying back to their home. Bo couldn't care less. They might as well be walking through a back alley. It doesn't matter at all to her.

Because Tamsin hasn't spoken yet.

The first words out of the valkyrie's mouth allow Bo to let out a breath she doesn't realize she has been holding. She listens, rapt. And terrified.

"It's typical, really," Tamsin says, an edge of bitterness to her soft voice. "I was always the oddball – the valkyrie who wasn't completely obsessed with fate, with the mystical, with the unknown. As a rookie, instead of wandering the palace with my jaw on the floor at the beauty, I was in rundown outskirts, guzzling any spirit I could find, covering my face so people wouldn't know I was anything other than another drunk commoner." Bo sees Tamsin's jaw work, sees her teeth grind together. "I'm important, aren't I," she asks, and her voice is weary. "I'm something you tell your children about in stories."

Bo doesn't want to answer her. She doesn't want to have this conversation, she wants Tamsin's desire to just be like anyone else to be fulfilled. She knows the feeling well – the feeling of not fitting in, of feeling like you are just so undeniably different in a way you can't change. She cringes inwardly, and knows that as much as she wants everything to be as simple as that… it just isn't. "I've… heard of you," she says finally.

Another long exhale drifts from Tamsin's lips. "Of course you have," she mutters dejectedly. Then she turns her head, her eyes losing their distant quality and focusing completely on Bo. Her jaw is set, and the lines of her face are serious. "So, are you going to tell me? What you know? Who I am?"

Yes, that is what Bo has been planning to do. That is why she brought this up, that is why she's having this painful conversation. But as she looks into the eyes of the woman she loves, she thinks about it. And she decides that yes, she has to tell her. But … "Tamsin," she says, and her voice is clear now, strong. "I don't care."

Tamsin's expression doesn't change, and there is a confused flicker in her eyes as she tries to process that sentence. "What the hell are you talking about, succubus," she deadpans after a second.

It's so simple to Bo. "I don't care," she repeats, and she wonders at the truth of that. "I don't care about this identity bullshit, about who you are. You can't control it – you never could. But this part of you – it doesn't change anything, Tamsin. In fact, it just makes you… more you." She stops speaking for a moment and just takes in the beauty of the woman holding her hand. And she thinks about how lucky she is. "And I love you."

Tamsin's laugh is kind of strangled – a funny little noise in her throat that sounds both pained and incredibly happy all at once. "You're so weird," she says. And then she exhales slowly. "Although I guess I'm one to talk."

Bo can feel it. The words on her lips, the need to just… get it out. "Tamsin," she starts, and suddenly she knows exactly what to say – exactly what she feels. "You're strong. You're brave. You're so goddamn smart."

One blonde eyebrow arches, amused. "Self talk? Really?"

"You're a bit of an asshole," Bo continues, a smile edging onto her lips. "But you have a good heart." She takes a deep breath. Getting close. "You're a valkyrie. You're a warrior. A soldier."

Tamsin is silent, her green eyes alight. She knows it's coming too. She squeezes Bo's hand, and age old words echo in her ears, numbing her brain, quickening her heart. Words from old stories that always felt just a little more significant than they should have. _…Rising with the sun, a skeleton in black armor mounted on a white horse..._

She feels the words leave Bo's lips like a final puzzle piece settling into its vacant home.

"You are Death."

She doesn't realize how right it is until she hears it.

… And then she _feels_ it.

_Death is young. She sits alone, apart from the others. They are… different. She clenches her fists, and her nails bite into her palms. _

Tamsin's heart pounds in her throat.

_Death is older. She feels the twinge in her chest again, the subtle, pinching feeling that only is noticeable every once in a while. It feels strange. It feels like she is letting something go._

Blood is in her mouth, and she feels the twinge. The one she has almost forgotten about. The one that happens so often it has faded into the background of who she is. Now she knows, though. Every time someone dies. Every time she has to let someone go.

_Death leaves home. She can't be held down anymore. It feels wrong. She can't follow someone else's idea of life. It is not meant for her._

Tamsin grits her teeth. She was never meant to follow the path of life.

She is meant to end it.

"Tamsin…" Bo's voice is soft, wary, but there is no regret there. "I know this feels so huge for you. But it's always been there. It's just – you know, now."

Tamsin laughs without humour. She thinks back to the dís, thinks back to all that has happened. "I'm a plot point, Bo," she says, her voice flat. "I'm meant to guide others on their journey, not have my own." She grimaces. "I always knew that, at least."

A soft laugh escapes Bo's lips. "And since when have you ever listened to someone else's plans for you? You have a huge burden, Tamsin, but it's _your_ life."

There is a short pause. And then the blonde smiles wryly. "Who better than Death to dictate her own life?"

This is a slightly twisted way of putting it, but isn't that just like Tamsin? Bo squeezes her hand. "Exactly."

It feels like they should speak – should process this, should acknowledge the heavy weight of the information that has been thrust out in the open. But at the same time, as Bo walks along, she overwhelmingly doesn't feel the need to. It's strange, but somehow it is less like something new has happened, and more like something old has finally fallen into place. 'This has been the weirdest fucking thing I've ever done,' she thinks, and her lips twitch in a silent, flickering smile.

They walk. One foot in front of the other.

Tamsin is leading – she knows where she is going. The white halls are bright, all the same. Somehow though, they are less threatening now, less foreign. As Bo walks, she feels – almost at home. The sticky haze of fear that seemed to have been surrounding them since they arrived in this place is gone. There is no feeling of being watched, of being tracked. Without knowing, Bo knows the Einherjar are not following them anyone. She takes a deep breath. The air is clear.

The air is getting clearer, actually.

Dyson has noticed too. His voice is rough when he speaks up from behind them – he has been silent for quite a while. "It feels different, here," he remarks. "Lighter."

Bo glances to her right to see Tamsin nod. "We're close," she says, an excited lilt to her voice.

Bo has to ask. "Close to what?"

And then they turn a corner, and the 'what' becomes very apparent.

Tamsin smiles. "Close to the gate."

The gate is… magnificent. The white marble structure stands with ethereal, godly pride; towering over the three of them. It is carved so beautifully Bo could weep – scenes of winged beings in the throes of battle adorn the massive structure, and ornately designed wreathes of white marble are seemingly woven into the sides. Bo feels her mouth drop open in awe.

And the centre, the glowing area in between the pillars of the gate… it is simply unreal.

It _lives_. This is the only way to describe it. It is a pulsing, living _thing_ – full of this unbelievable energy that seems to emanate from the gate towards the three of them, rippling outward like a wave of life. Bo feels it warm her face, and wonders if it's possible she will get a tan.

It's incredible. Incredible.

"Wow," says Dyson.

Tamsin laughs softly. "That's one way to say it," she mutters. But the awe present in her voice is the same as Dyson's. Her face is lit up, aglow with the godly light from the gate. She is radiant.

Bo doesn't have the words. Not yet. So she simply stands, watching, waiting. She feels Tamsin squeeze her hand, and she wonders if maybe this moment could just last forever.

But she remembers things then – flashes, things that seem almost from a whole other life. She hears a laugh in her memories, a soft giggle from an ebony haired girl. _Kenzi_. And she can almost smell oak, almost feel the smoothness of her favourite bar beneath her fingertips, hear the familiar chuckle of its owner. _Trick_.

And then she does have the words, does have the will. And she turns her head to look at Tamsin. "Let's go home," she says.

A slip of paper is in her hand – a slip of paper that seems as though it was from forever ago. There is blood staining the edges – of course there is – but the words scrawled there are still readable:

_'One will ride in on a black horse, the decider of all but yet to be decided_

_One will follow, always, doomed to be broken_

_One roams alone, soon to expire._

_Invoke these names to open the gate.'_

Bo's eyes flash over the words of the spell, taking them in, processing them.

'_One will ride in on a black horse…'_ Tamsin inhales next to her, her own sharp green eyes undoubtedly taking in the words for herself. And the valkyrie is steely eyed – Death is ready. Present.

'_One will follow, always, doomed to be broken…'_ Dyson is to her left now, the blue of his eyes locked with the beauty of the gate, still. And Bo feels the back of her neck get hot. She needs to tell him. She will. But the important thing, as it always is with Dyson, is that he is here. Always. Present.

'_One roams alone, doomed to expire.'_

Uh oh.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, no.

_Fuck._

"_Fuck._" Bo startles as her thoughts are voiced – Tamsin has reached the same line she has, and has undoubtedly come to the same jarring conclusion. "We killed the motherfucker," seethes the blonde, her eyes wide with the realization and voice shrill with panic. "_Fuck_. He's dead. We killed him!" She drops Bo's hand, running her fingers frantically through her own blood stained blonde hair, pulling at the strands. "But we _need_ him!"

They're doomed. A dreadful, sinking feeling surrounds Bo's heart, and she feels her mouth go dry as a horrible numbness envelops her. They can't escape now – they have killed the Wanderer, killed her father, the last piece of the puzzle. The gate won't open.

The gate won't open.

A howl of misery fills the air – Dyson has heard their words, realized the truth, too. His shoulders shake – he is losing his human form, losing his grip on his wolf. His howl becomes more animal, truer, as his body warps, as his skin sprouts fur, as his hands form claws. His clothes rip and then he is in motion. He bolts from Bo's side, and he is running toward the gate, his anguished howl still filling the air.

"No, Dyson!" comes Tamsin's voice, and although she is fast, she is not faster than a wolf – she races after him, but Dyson is too far gone.

His howl is pain, pure animal pain.

And then he thrusts himself into the centre of the gate.

Bo's cry of fear rings in the air, but she barely hears it – Dyson's body is lit up by the light, frozen in mid leap, a wolf surrounded by the raw energy of Valhalla. And time seems to slow down, freeze to a stand still.

Seconds crawl like years.

And Bo watches.

The gate is angry – this is not how it is supposed to go. It needs three things, three names to be invoked. And it has only the body of one.

Not acceptable. Not the way it should be.

So the gate spits him out.

The wolf hits the marble hard. There is no escaping it – bones shatter. Blood spills on pristine white floor. _Doomed to be broken._ "No…" comes a whisper. The valkyrie kneels at his side, her fingers entangled in his fur. "You idiot," she says again. "You Fool."

It is grim. It seems as though there is nothing left. They are trapped in this place, and the Fool lies still. Unmoving. Unbreathing.

But then he opens his eyes. And when he opens his eyes, and looks up at the woman at his side, he does not see a valkyrie, backlit by the glow of the ethereal gate. Before him, he sees, rising with the sun, a skeleton in black armor mounted on a white horse. He recognizes it as Death. And so he humbly asks, "Have I died?"

And the Skeleton answers, "Yes, in a way. You sacrificed your old self. That part of you is gone, dead."

The Fool cannot keep from weeping. "Forgive me," he says, embarrassed by his tears.

"There is nothing to forgive," Death replies.

And the Fool sees the truth in those words. He, too, feels like a skeleton, all that he was stripped away. This, he understands, is how all great transformations start, by removing everything down to bare bone or soil so that something new has room to grow. "What do I do?" he asks.

It is not Death who answers.

"Get up," says Bo. The words surprise her with their power. She does not understand what is happening. She does not understand her own certainty, her own strikingly deep knowledge that _this_ is what needs to happen, _this _is how it needs to be.

The Fool looks to her, his eyes pained, unsure. "I cannot," he says. "I am broken."

Again, the words leave Bo's lips before she can understand what they even mean. "The old part of you is broken," she says. "You sacrificed yourself for me, again and again. Your bones shattered for that, shattered for your sacrifice." And then she pauses, and she thinks. And then she speaks purposefully – she realizes what has truly occurred. "You need to leave your love for me behind." She smiles. "You need to be able to grow."

There is a long pause, the time stretching on seemingly endlessly. But then the Fool's body stirs, and in a second he is in the form of a man again – a strong, whole man, unadorned with blood or scars, clad in only now shredded rags of black. His eyes are on fire, alight with his own power, his own individuality. His new life.

And the Fool stands, a new man. "You're right," he says simply, looking to his former lover. "But I can't do that here. I need to go home, Bo." His gaze flickers to Death, and then back to the succubus. "We all do."

Bo knows the truth of that. She shuts her eyes tight. There is something she is missing, still. Something glaringly obvious, just out of reach. Something that will truly allow everything to fall into place.

The Wanderer is the third part of the puzzle – the third name that must be invoked to open the gate. The Wanderer - _doomed to expire._ Bo chews morosely on her own lip. Well he certainly was that… expired. Dead. Gone.

... Wait. If he is gone, how can he still be the name to open the gate?

Bo opens her eyes.

He can't be. Her heart races with excitement, and a realization that is slowly growing. _He isn't._ And she looks at Death, and the sharp green eyes she adores meet her own. "The Wanderer reigned in Valhalla, didn't he? For ages?"

Death's returning gaze is steely. "For eons."

Bo meets that gaze. "Like a king?"

Death lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, not understanding. "I suppose so. Like a king."

Bo's heart is pounding harder now. Her eyes dart from face to face, from Death to the Fool, and back. "When a king dies," she starts, slowly and carefully, as if speaking too fast might taint the truth of her words. "He passes on his throne." And she takes a step forward. Closer to her companions. Closer to the gate.

The Fool's brow is furrowed, as he tries to comprehend her words, tries to understand. "Yes," he agrees slowly, his confusion evident in his voice.

And then Bo is right before him, and a smile begins to grow on her face. "He passes on his throne," she repeats, "To his oldest son." And her brown eyes flash a brilliant blue. "Or, if you will – his oldest _daughter_."

And now the Wanderer's smile is wide. With her right hand, she reaches out to grasp the fingers of Death, the woman she loves with every fibre of her being, the woman whose bright green eyes are now wide with realization, and joy. And the Wanderer and Death share a gaze that brims with the hope of their future. A future full of possibilities, happiness, and love.

Tearing her eyes away from her love, the Wanderer reaches out with her left hand, and grasps the strong hand of the Fool. His grip is familiar, but different now. His blue eyes flash, and the Wanderer knows that this is a new man – but still an old friend. And undoubtedly, one of the best friends she will ever have. And the Wanderer and the Fool share a gaze that acknowledges that bond. And they smile, together.

There is only one thing left to do. And with an unspoken agreement, they begin.

The three companions, hand in hand, turn to face the gate.

And Tamsin says: "Death."

And Dyson says: "The Fool."

And Bo says: "The Wanderer."

And a brilliant white light erupts from the magnificent marble gate of Valhalla, enveloping the three of them. And taking them home.


End file.
